


Prodigal Son

by ContreParry



Series: Your Letters Bring Me Home [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Gen, Growing Up, Humor, Slice of Life, epistolary fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2020-10-25 17:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContreParry/pseuds/ContreParry
Summary: A Templar must be separated from the world and remain loyal to their Order, but Mia Rutherford will always remember her little brother who left home, and she will always remind him of where he came from.A loose collection of letters between Cullen and his sister as they grow and change over the years. A companion piece to "My Dear Aunt, My Darling Niece."





	1. Bournshire, Part One

Tenth of Justinian, 9:25

Dear Cullen,

I know that you only left this morning. We all saw you off, you on that big brown horse with Ser Thomas and Ser Eleanor riding before you. We all watched until you disappeared over the crest of the hill. Rosalie’s been crying up in the barn loft ever since you left, Mum’s beating the tar out of the bread dough, and Da and Branson went to town “to hear the latest news,” but we all know they’re having a talk about family and letting people go their way. And here I am, writing you a letter, and I nearly shouted down to you to ask where you misplaced my favorite quill. But you weren’t there, and I had to look for it myself (really, Cullen, you hid it in the rafters? It’s my favorite quill!). That is to say, we all miss you terribly, and the sun hasn’t even gone down yet.

Don’t think that I’m blaming you, Cullen, of course I’m not. You’ve never asked for anything you wanted before this, and if being a Templar means this much to you- well, we’ll always be here for you. And we’ll always be proud. Never forget that, understand? As much as we miss you, we don’t want to hold you back. I know you’ll do great things, Cullen. I just know it.

We love you, we miss you, and we’re very, very proud of you.

I’ve sent you my very best quill, and I’m giving you a bottle of ink (it cost 2 whole silvers, so be sure to **USE IT**), I’m sending this on the way to Bournshire tomorrow, and if the post is as fast as they claim, it will be waiting for you when you arrive. Templars are allowed to write, you know. I asked Ser Thomas before you left.

Lots of Love,

Mia

-

Fifteenth of Justinian, 9:25

Dear Mia,

Your letter arrived two days before I did, which confused Knight Commander Marcus until I arrived. He says not to expect too much free time to write, but we all have some free hours after Chantry services. Thank you for the quill and ink- I will use it, though I don’t think I’ll suddenly become a better writer by writing lengthy letters back home.

Bournshire is fine. The monastery is secluded, several miles outside of the town (which is smaller than even Honnleath, which I didn’t think was possible). There are seven other new recruits, all of them half my age. Half! I tower over most of the younger apprentices. I will have to work harder than the others in order to take my place with the other Templar apprentices my age. While I can’t wield a sword properly yet, I’m not too bad at using a staff, and I’m far better at reading than Knight Commander Marcus expected. There is so much for me to learn so that I may catch up with my peers, but I won’t be discouraged. I can, and will, be a Templar knight.

No one else at the monastery comes from Honnleath, far as I know. There’s one boy, higher in the ranks than me, who is from Redcliffe, but all the other Fereldens hail from Denerim, and we have a few Orlesians and even an Antivan, and Knight Commander Marcus is from Nevarra. I didn’t realize that so many people from across Thedas would gather in Bournshire, but I learned that it is encouraged by the Divine herself- the Templar order must be devoted to the good of _all_ of Thedas, and not just the country of their birth. 

I asked if a similar practice was done with Mages in the Circles, and while Ser Nicholas (he is the arms-master, and comes from the Anderfels) was reluctant to answer my question, Brother Gabriel explained that it was best for Mages to have a degree of separation from their countries of origin. It is, after all, best to prevent what happens in Tevinter from spreading across the rest of Thedas. Brother Gabriel suggested I read a few treatises from the Blessed Age, and to tackle the Nevarran Accord and write my own thoughts on the matter When Ser Nicholas said that that was a challenge for a full-grown man to read and interpret such material, never mind a farm boy, Brother Gabriel shook his balding head and replied that “Knowledge is its own reward. The boy will learn _something_, so long as I’m here.”

I asked Knight Commander Marcus for his opinion on Mages while he drilled us all through hand-to-hand combat (the one part of the day where I’m with the boys my age, thank the Maker!). Templars, Knight Commander Marcus says, don’t talk to the Mages unless we have to. Fraternization is what causes Templars to stray from their cause, and no matter how sweet their face and kind their manner, always remember that a Mage is a Mage, and Mages are dangerous. And he looked so solemn and stern that I asked no more questions, though one of the other boys (nice lad, Alistair, a bit clumsy and always prone to forgetting his reading) told me some of the rumors later. It is said that when the Knight Commander was a young man, he was assigned to Ostwick Circle and fell in love with a Mage there. His time in Ostwick did not end happily, and Knight Commander Marcus has never trusted or liked Mages since. It is only a rumor, but it would explain much, especially Knight Commander Marcus’s insistence on vigilance. Constant vigilance! If I’m any more vigilant I’ll never sleep again.

I have to conclude this letter, we’re going to the practice yard to work with wooden swords and shields. I hope it finds you all well, that Mum isn’t overworking her bread dough, that Rosalie’s feeling better, that Branson hasn’t forgotten to close the chicken coop again, and that Da isn’t carrying too much weight on his back. I sent a few sheets of paper with this letter, Mia. I know you like writing.

With Love,

Cullen. 

(Underneath the neatly penned signature is a small illustration of several stone and wood buildings that seem structured around a courtyard. A robed figure of a balding man carrying a bundle of scrolls in his arms climbs up the steps of the largest building. Cullen labeled the figure as “Brother Genitivi, visiting from another monastery.”)

-

Third of Bloomingtide, 9:26

Dear Cullen,

Today marks the first Summerday without you here in Honnleath, and it’s been almost a year since you’ve left home. Your birthday’s come and gone, so you’d be fourteen now. Mum had me help her sew all the new clothing for Summerday, and my hands are stiff and covered in pin pricks from the work. You’ve always had a neater hand at sewing than me. My stitches are crooked and gaping, and Mum had me pick out the hem of my gown and redo it three times before she said “it will do, girl, on with you to bed.”

Only a few more years and I’ll be too old for the procession. The thought is bittersweet, but also exciting. No more stupid white dresses that you can’t properly walk in, no more sitting still and being talked at by Sister Genevieve (don’t roll your eyes at me, Cullen, not all of us want to carefully cut up the Chant and _talk_ about it all evening). I will miss the little bit of fruit cake we get afterwards, though. Mum says I’m nearly as good at baking it as she is. Maybe I’ll send you a loaf for Satinalia? Fruitcake should last the journey to Bournshire, and you need something to celebrate your birthday, at least.

Mum sighed over sewing up Branson’s tunic, and while she didn’t say a word I know she was thinking of how much you must have grown in the past year. Every letter you send us (as brief as they can be) always mentions the latest incident in the practice ring. I think Mum wishes she could fuss and scold like she does with the rest of us, but since she can’t she tells me to tell you to take care and wrap up warmly. So take care, Cullen, and wrap up warmly.

Da says that he’s proud of your studies and determination, but he wonders if you’re making any friends at the monastery. You’ve moved up to your proper age group so quickly, but they are still strangers. Though, if Bournshire is as small and separate from the rest of the world as you say, perhaps it is easier to make friends in the isolation. There’s no one else to talk to, after all. I think I’d go mad in a week- you take regular vows of silence, Cullen, I can’t imagine how you survive it. Da says I should try it, it might do me some good to hold my tongue.

Branson wore his crisp white linen shirt for Summerday, but by the time we left for the Chantry his sleeve was torn and there was dirt streaked across his back. He also had grass in his hair. The entire service he made the oddest cow eyes at Margery, the blacksmith’s daughter. Of course, Margery’s older than me, almost a woman grown, and is set on Samuel (her father’s own apprentice, scandalous!), but Branson is Branson and moons over the girl like a sick dog. He won’t listen to me, of course, but maybe you have some words of wisdom to knock into his empty skull? I do need help milking the cows and gathering the eggs, and his wistful sighing doesn’t chop up the firewood.

Rosalie was adorable in her white dress, all golden curls and big brown eyes, and the Sisters cooed over her for a good bit until she pulled a mouse out of her apron pocket to show them. Da had her let the poor thing out in the field. Then we all had to explain that, while Messere Whiskers was indeed cute, he was a wild mouse and needed to go home to his family and cozy nest. Now she wants bedtime stories about Messere Whiskers and his home in the hollow of an oak tree, and I haven’t enough inspiration to write another one for her.

Perhaps I’m rambling a little too long, Cullen, but I haven’t the skill to wrap up all of Honnleath into paper and send it to you so I’m doing what I can. In short we miss you terribly, and we are all so terribly proud of you. You’ve always been more noble than me, wanting to help others, and if being a Templar is the way you think you can help the world it then of course I support you. But I can’t deny that I’m horribly selfish and miss beating you soundly at chess. No one else is challenging enough, and our board is collecting dust up in the attic.

Your Loving Sister (who has to clean Branson’s shirt, Maker’s Balls what did the boy _do_ to it?!),

Mia

-

Twentieth of Bloomingtide, 9:26

Dear Mia,

Pawn to e4. There. Now you have someone to play chess with, even if it is through a letter.

Please do not send a fruitcake through the post, Mia. Brother Timon is in charge of all incoming and out-coming mail, and he would certain confiscate a fruitcake. Templars are to abstain from worldly pleasures, and cannot indulge in material luxuries like cake. At least, that is what Brother Timon would say. If he were a hypocrite I would ignore him, but he is harsher on himself than anyone. He genuinely believes that deprivation builds character, and perhaps he is right. Brother Timon is a _character_. You would think such a dower looking man would have no sense of humor, but the old man is fond of playing tricks on all the recruits. He may have denied it, but we all know who short sheeted the cots in our barracks.

Knight Commander Marcus says that I am coming along well in my studies, though with all the work set before me I find that I rarely have a moment to myself. Besides the lessons in swordplay and military strategy, we learn arithmetic, languages, history, and the Chant of Light. More advanced recruits learn of magic, how to disarm apostate and possessed Mages, and how to best face off against various demons. Once upon a time, Brother Gabriel says, there was a class of Mages who could fight, side-by-side, with Templars, but those days are long gone.

Knight Commander Marcus always looks particularly grim whenever Brother Gabriel poetically waxes on cooperation between Mages and Templars. His lectures after one of Brother Gabriel’s sermons pointedly remind us all of the dangers of corruption and betrayal. A Templar must be resolute, decisive, and hold true to their oaths. 

Of course, Knight Commander Marcus likes to remind us all after an inspection of the barracks, a Templar must also be organized and tidy. His solemn expression is similar to Da’s at his most serious, but his scolding is just like Mum. Or you, Mia, though Knight Commander Marcus would never dump an icy bucket of water on someone who was sleeping. I don’t care to test him, though. The last recruit who slept in (Alistair, again) ran laps around the courtyard for all of breakfast.

Alistair is the closest person I have to a friend in Bournshire. He often struggles with memorization and our more academic lessons, more out of forgetfulness than laziness. He does put in an honest effort, and he asks interesting questions that I would never think of (“can Mages, theoretically, create a horseless carriage?”). The brothers and our superiors don’t appreciate the odd queries (“Alistair, please, now is hardly the time!”), but I find them to be a good distraction from our studies. He is also the only other recruit who can still soundly trounce me during our sparring lessons.

Speaking of forgetfulness and cleanliness, perhaps Branson went out looking for flowers for Margery? You know he wanders out into the meadows and woods often, and making a bouquet for a girl he’s sweet on sounds like him. Branson, remember, Andraste’s Grace is a spring flower. Go find bachelor’s button instead.

Rosalie’s love for all animals is as charming as her golden curls and big brown eyes. The Chantry sisters should open their hearts to all of the Maker’s creations.

All my love,

Cullen

(There is a small illustration of a fat field mouse wearing a plaid waistcoat, another field mouse wearing a frilly apron and holding a spoon, and a tiny field mouse holding onto a cornflower that towers over the entire family. Cullen wrote underneath “Messere Whiskers with his wife and daughter.”)

-

Tenth of Harvestmere, 9:26

Dear Cullen,

Happy fifteenth birthday, Cullen! See, I was able to send a letter on time. If all goes according to the messenger’s promises, this will reach you on your birthday. If it is late, do tell me so I can demand my two silvers back.

Since you can’t have material goods (really, what is so wrong with a sister wanting to spoil her little brother?), I thought that a letter from home would boost your spirits. You haven’t really developed as a letter writer, much to my disappointment. To be fair to you, however, the isolation of the monastery delays your letters and your training doesn’t afford you much time to write. But you could still try to write a few more letters home!

Here’s all the latest news from Honnleath and the farm- I’m sewing up my last Summerday frock, thank the Maker, and it doesn’t look half bad this time around. The stitches are almost invisible (if you cross your eyes). Rosalie’s moved on from illustrated reading manuals to actual books, though most of the time she wants me to read to her. Branson’s apprenticed himself to the blacksmith after Margery and Samuel married and left town to work in Harper’s Ford. Branson has taken to the work like a fish takes to water, and now I wonder if some of his fascination with Margery was really because he wanted to know more about smithing. This is Branson, after all, and if he can find a way to make a task both more complex and potentially hazardous, he will find it.

Mum has been having trouble with a cough of late. The local doctor says it’s nothing but a chill, but Cullen, it’s nearly summer! The doctor suggested she drink a tea made of thyme, lemon, and honey, and should her condition worsen to see him again. Mum says it’s nothing and that I shouldn’t worry, but I am concerned. Mum so rarely gets sick, after all.

Da strained his back again while chopping wood, so I finished the pile for him. He is as sour as a starving bear when he has to sit around and heal, and Mum has set him to carving Rosalie’s bed frame- she’s grown big enough to have her own bed now- and all while he grumbles and complains he carved beautiful apple blossoms out of the wood. “Roses are for big girls, and Rosalie’s still a babe yet,” he says.

A Dalish caravan passed by Honnleath a week ago, and while some of the older folk were wary (and the Chantry sisters clicked their tongues) it was good fun to trade with the Dalish. I traded eggs and butter for wooden combs for Rosalie, some ironwood for Da (for the plow), a beautiful woven shawl for Mum, and a new hammer for Branson. I thought that I might have short-changed the girl I was trading with, but she assured me that it was a good trade- eggs are in short supply with their clan. I know that presents are discouraged, but I bought you a new pen-knife made of ironwood for your quills. It has a little mabari hound carved in the handle!

All my Love,

Mia

Postscript- White Queen to g1. Checkmate. Shall we play again? I’ll let you start this time.

-

Twelfth of Harvestmere, 9:26

Dear Mia,

Your letter arrived on my birthday, so your two silver (that was an unnecessary expense, Mia, really) were not spent in vain. Better news, Brother Timon decided that a pen knife was a useful gift that encourages my academic side (“Truly, Cullen, your writing is a pleasure to read _when you choose to write_.”). Alistair says that it was kind of you to think of me. I appreciate your gift, Mia, but two whole silvers for postage? I can wait a few days. Waiting builds character.

Also, pawn to e4. How are you still so good at this? Did you borrow another strategic manual on chess from the Chantry and you’ve neglected to tell me? That’s uncharitable of me, I often read different strategies in the monastery library when I have the time, and we are nearly even on wins and losses. But I have a competitive nature. Brother Gabriel says that I need to work on my modesty some more, for I’m growing a bit over-confident. Knight Commander Marcus says that I’ll have plenty of opportunities to be humbled once I am out in the field as a fully fledged Templar.

I am glad Branson has found a trade that speaks to him. He was always interested in making things, and a good blacksmith is a great asset to any community. I am glad Rosalie is reading now- are the letters still fuzzy for her? I have read that there are certain aids that one can purchase that claim to help in such matters. Much like Mum’s cough, these miracle cures are always suspicious. While I am hesitant to suggest it, perhaps you could ask for a Healer to come and see to her? There are rumors that a particularly talented Spirit Healer resides at Kinloch, so it would only be a few days to Redcliffe and you could catch a ferry. You might even be able to have them take a look at Da’s back, if it is as bad as you say.

I do not regret my training, Mia, but I often wish I could return home to help you. There is not much I can do, isolated up in the mountains. Do consider seeing a healer to look after Mum and Da, will you?

Love,

Cullen

Postscript- TWO WHOLE SILVERS, MIA? REALLY?!

(Under the postscript is an illustration of a stern, older man with short, dark hair liberally streaked with white. There is a scar bisecting his right eyebrow that runs over his eyelid and down his cheek, and he is scowling. Cullen labeled this man “Knight Commander Marcus.”)


	2. Bournshire, Part Two

First of Wintermarch, 9:27

Dear Cullen,

Happy First Day, Cullen! Have you come up with a list of resolutions for the new year? I’ve come up with a list of my own, though no one else is willing to share theirs with me. Perhaps they haven’t come up with anything yet?

Mia’s Resolutions for 9:27 Dragon

Rebuild the chicken coop  
Purchase a draft horse  
Teach Rosalie how to knit  
Convince Da to take up woodcarving as a business.

Now I realize the last one is going to be difficult, but I know I can manage to turn the idea around until it is Da's idea if I get Mum involved. I can take up most of the tasks around the farm, and we have enough money to hire a farmhand for the heavier work. Harvest was good this past year, and Mum’s been selling the wool she’s spun to bolster our savings. She’s been doing much better ever since I wrote to that Spirit Healer you talked about who lives in Kinloch- Enchanter Wynne’s recommendations were successful, and she even wrote out a series of possible exercises Da could run through to help promote healing in his back and shoulder. I had no idea that Mages could heal without their magic- I suppose they have to do _something_ in the Circles. I’m glad for their help.

Knight to f6. I hope that you haven’t forgotten about our match, I had to pour over your letters to re-assemble our game, but I’m not sure if I have it right (Rosalie knocked over the board while getting dressed last week). I’m trying to teach Rosalie how to play, but she has no interest in chess. She is, however, impressively skilled at Wicked Grace. She says she likes the pictures on the cards. Branson thinks she just likes winning candies from all of us, and I don’t think he’s wrong.

Branson’s shot up like a weed these past three years. Might be taller than you, now. Or not. Maker’s Breath, Cullen, you’ll be sixteen this year! You’re making me feel old now. Between Branson suddenly towering over me and Rosalie borrowing books from the Chantry sisters all by herself, I’m afraid of waking up one day and finding streaks of silver in my hair. 

You’re not allowed to grow older, Cullen. You’re going to be my thirteen year old baby brother forever and I’m going to trounce you at chess for the rest of our lives. I demand it.

Love,

Mia

-

Fifteenth of Drakonis, 9:27

Dear Mia,

Happy First Day, Mia, though it was well into Drakonis when I received your letter. The snows around Bournshire have only started melting, and little snowdrops and crocuses are poking their heads out of the earth. It’s a beautiful sight, but not as beautiful as seeing visitors visiting from outside of the monastery. We’ve been driving each other slowly mad all winter, though Knight Commander Marcus seems to find the cabin fever amusing- “Your fellow Templars are your brothers and sisters in faith, it does you good to squabble occasionally.”

Speaking of knights, Knight to c3. Our game, so far, as follows- I’m playing white, you are playing black.

Pawn to e4, pawn to c5  
Knight to f3, pawn to d6  
Pawn to d4, pawn at c5 takes pawn at d4  
Knight at f3 takes pawn at d4, (and your most recent move) Knight to f6  
Knight to c3

I’m afraid that I have grown quite a bit these past few years- enough to know that I am certainly taller than you. And larger. Of course, Alistair somehow manages to tower over all of us, and he’ll jokingly ask how the weather is where we are. The nice thing about Alistair is that he’s not cruel- he’s incredibly amiable, friends with everyone, always willing to think the best of people. It’s nice to have a friend, though I doubt we’ll be placed in the same Circle once our training is complete. A shame, that. It would be nice to have a friend, wherever I’m going.

I keep thinking of the future more and more as my training progresses, and while I’m filled with excitement and anticipation I am also worried. As we learn more of magic and Mages, I wonder if I am truly up to the difficult tasks that loom before me. I will have to stand guard over Mages during their Harrowings. If they should fail, we, as Templars, must eliminate the threat they have become. It is one thing to kill an abomination, a Mage possessed by demons. The harm that a single possessed Mage could do is unfathomable. But a Mage who, only moments before their possession, has been asleep? It seems… wrong, somehow. I don’t know how else to describe it.

I did not get much sleep after that lesson, and have not shared my thoughts with any of the other recruits or my teachers. It is something I must parse out for myself, I think. I knew that being a Templar was not an easy life, but I did not think that a hypothetical situation would shake me so deeply, would stir such doubt in my soul. I had thought that our relationships with Mages would be… perhaps not _friendly_, but peaceful. I thought the threat would come from the outside, not from within.  


I think my Wintersend resolution is this: to understand why I have such doubts in my heart, and to find the answers that will put them to rest. I cannot believe that all Mages are snakes in the grass, no matter what Knight Commander Marcus says. An entire group of people cannot be all bad, Mia. I refuse to believe it.

Your Brother Who Is Taller Than You,

Cullen

(Illustrations of snowdrops and crocuses take up the space in the margins of the letter. Cullen even used ink to color in the bright red stamens of the crocuses and their yellow centers, though the green leaves were left blank and the purple petals is closer to blue.)

-

Fifth of Firstfall, 9:27

Dear Cullen,

Rosalie keeps asking me if she can knit you a scarf, and while I’ve tried and tried to explain that Templars aren’t allowed to have private possessions she’s done nothing but practice her knitting so she can make you one “for when you need it.” She’s nine and very stubborn. I think she grows upset that we all have so many memories of you, while she has so few. Her plans to knit you a scarf is her way to make her own memories, I think. I told her she could write a letter if she wanted to, but she made a face at me and said it would be “weird.”

Branson says hello, as do Mum and Da and Rosalie. And me, of course. It’s always good to read one of your letters- I do read most of the segments out loud for everyone, but I am discreet. I share the generalities, but if it is particularly sensitive, I’ll skip the topic entirely. Everyone enjoys listening to the chess games, but the philosophical debates are a little difficult to parse if you aren’t really well-read on the topic. 

Your questions this past year about Mages and the role of Templars are… well, I don’t know if Mum or Da would rightly understand your concerns, Cullen. It’s been decades, long before I was born, before Mum and Da were even married, but there was an apostate Mage who went- I don’t know, I suppose he was possessed or something, but I haven’t studied what you studied. Whatever the case, he burnt down a quarter of the village and killed a few people before the local Templars were able to stop him. Everyone in Honnleath who was alive back then remembers that time. It was… well, Mum and Da were willing to let you train and be a Templar for a reason, Cullen, and it’s because magic _scares_ them. It scares them a great deal. I think they will always view Mages as a threat- even when they were helped by one when they were sick.

Of course, none of us have met any Mages, not even you, so we can’t really be impartial judges of an entire group of people, can we? And while I know you were disappointed to not find satisfactory answers to all your questions, I think it’s good to have doubts, Cullen. I think that those doubts will keep you thinking, and keep you from acting rashly. Mostly, I think that there aren’t easy answers and there’s no way for you to find a simple solution to a question that has probably haunted Templars and Mages for ages.

I’m sorry I have sent you such a serious letter, especially when I’m the one who is supposed to be lighthearted. I hope everything is going well at Bournshire and beyond. You said that you would be going on patrols outside of the monastery soon. Is that going well?

All My Love,

Mia

Postscript- Bishop to e3. What will you do now? I’ve got your knight trapped!

-

Twentieth of Firstfall, 9:27

Dear Mia,

If Rosalie isn’t opposed to it, perhaps she can teach me how to knit? There is downtime in the winter and the fiercest summer rains, when there is nothing to be done but sit around inside and wait for the weather to clear. Knitting would be a practical way to spend the time.

Training has taken on a less physical and more spiritual element, and while I find the hours of prayer meditative, others grow restless. Alistair, in particular, hates it- he complains that he wants to _help people_, not rest on his knees and talk to the air. He’s skilled and dedicated and has a good, loyal heart, but Alistair was never one for sitting still, and there isn’t much I can do to help him.

I’ll admit, it has been frustrating to work through the many moral quandaries both Brother Timon and Gabriel pose to us. I still have no satisfactory answers to any of the questions they pose. While they seem somewhat pleased with my simple replies, I am not happy with them. It is not good enough to recite the words of previous Templars through the ages and quote the Nevarran Accord. I think I need to find my own answers. Perhaps it will be easier to discover them once I am a fully-fledged Templar and assigned to my duties. There is nothing like field work to form character, or so says Knight Commander Marcus.

I have to go, I’m in charge of training the latest round of recruits in combat lessons with Alistair. To think, I was once one of them! Time passes quickly, even in Bournshire.

Love,

Cullen

Postscript- King to c8. Rook to d8.

(There is an illustration of a young man with short, messy hair and a sheepish smile. His face is friendly, and his ears turn up into the slightest of points. The sketch is labeled “Alistair.”)  
-

Tenth of Guardian, 9:28

Dear Cullen,

I may very well strangle Branson. The boy’s decided to rework all of our tools. It is true that we’ve been needing some repairs for some time, yes, but he has taken every last hammer and blade and pick and hoe and plow and is working on each one “because we ain’t usin’ it during the winter.” And Andraste forbid you take any tool away from him, for he will notice and start fussing! How am I to repair fences if he’s taken all my tools?

Thank the Maker for Gordon. Nice lad, Gordon. We hired him on last fall and he’s been such a help that we asked if he would help us in for the spring planting. He’s the quiet sort, but he works hard and is good with the sheep- yes, we bought a few sheep, it’s been a good investment. Mum’s taken to spinning yarn as a business, and Rosalie’s been learning all the different plants we can use for dyes. Her little experiment shed smells utterly rancid at times, but she can reliably produce a beautiful sky blue dye now. She’s very proud of it.

Do you have any idea where you will be stationed once you take your vows? We all have different ideas of where you might go- Branson suggested Ostwick, while I think you might be in Orlais (it is just over the Frostbacks, and you are so close). Rosalie firmly believes you’ll go to Antiva (I think those are her own hopes, really), and Mum and Da hope you’ll be nearer to home in Ferelden. Wherever you go, I hope you’ll be safe.

Love From All Of Us,

Mia (and Branson and Rosalie and Mum and Da)

Postscript- Ughhh, Fine, you win that one. Care to start another game?

-

Thirtieth of Drakonis, 9:28

Dear Mia,

I am proud to report that I have completed my training and have been assigned to my first posting. Alistair has not taken his vows- in fact, he is not joining the order at all. The Commander of the Grey of Ferelden has taken interest in Alistair, and is recruiting him as a Warden! While I am sad that he will not be joining me as a Templar, I am happy that he has found a calling that suits him. The quiet contemplation of the Order just never suited him, and as a Warden Alistair will still be able to help people, which he has always wanted to do.

He’s a good man, Alistair. I’ll miss him.

I will be stationed at Kinloch Tower at the beginning of Solace. While it would have been a change of pace to go to Orlais or Antiva, or even to be in a city like Ostwick, I think Kinloch Tower will be a good place to begin my work in earnest. A quiet place where nothing happens is good, and I’ll be close to Honnleath. Our letters will not be delayed by heavy snowfall, at least.

I’m going to help Alistair pack his bags, the Commander of the Grey wants to leave with him tonight. Brother Gabriel is not pleased, I think he’s writing to some higher ranked Chantry officials on the situation. But Alistair is in better spirits than I’ve seen him for some time, so I cannot help but wish him well.

Love,

Cullen

Postscript- Pawn to e4.

(Underneath this letter is an illustration of the Bournshire monastery. The old stone buildings are worn down from age and use. Pine trees shade the chapel, and the mountains loom in the background. Cullen has labeled the illustration: “Bournshire Monastery- Thirtieth of Drakonis, 9:28)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opening chess moves that Cullen and Mia use in the first two letters are called "The Sicilian Defense: Dragon Variation."


	3. Kinloch Tower, Part One

Seventh of Wintermarch, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

Congratulations on your posting, Cullen! It feels so strange to know that this will be going to Kinloch rather than Bournshire. It will go to Redcliffe and over Lake Calenhad up to Kinloch, where it will arrive to you. The letter carrier won’t have to trudge through mountains of snow to reach you- they’ll have well-guarded, well-maintained roads!

I fully expect that you will write to us more often now that you are established in Kinloch. I know that your duties will keep you busy, but we all love to hear from you, Mum and Da most of all I suspect. Rosalie has included a list of instructions on knitting (she worked on it these past three months and revised it a half dozen times at least before she gave it to me). She says she’s written instructions for mittens. Mittens, she claims, are simple to make, but challenging enough to keep you occupied. Scarves get boring, and socks frustrating (Rosalie also plans to teach that, if you’re interested).

Branson is thinking of taking a blacksmith apprenticeship in South Reach, and while I could use more help on the farm I think he ought to take the opportunity. So do Mum and Da. Even Rosalie is excited for Branson to go and be a journeyman. It seems the only one who has doubts is Branson himself. I think he wants to leave Honnleath and make his own way, but I think he wants to stay with us as well. He’s sixteen now, and convinced that he’s a man and doesn’t need to listen to me. He won’t even speak with me if I bring up the topic of South Reach. Perhaps he will listen to you, Cullen? You left home for an apprenticeship of sorts, you might have some insight that I won’t.

Mum’s spinning and Rosalie’s dyeing are bringing in a tidy profit, enough that we’ve saved up for a good cart horse. No cart yet, though Da says he will make one soon- his back is doing better, but he really shouldn’t push and injure himself all over again. But we are doing well, Cullen, and we’re all glad to know that you’re a little closer to home.

Love,

Mia

Postscript- Bishop to d3.

(Enclosed with Mia’s letter is a detailed set of instructions from Rosalie on how to knit a set of plain mittens, including illustrations.)

-

Second of Guardian, 9:29

Dear Mia,

Thank you for your warm congratulations, Mia. I have been so busy settling into the daily schedule of Kinloch that I have had little time to write. I had thought Kinloch would be a quiet place, but that seems far from the truth. Every day feels like an intensive training session with Knight Commander Marcus, and though I end my days tired I am also invigorated. I feel as though I am doing some good in the world, even in Kinloch, which is a small Circle out in the country. If Kinloch is small, I can’t begin to imagine what a large Circle must be like.

Knight Commander Greagoir believes that, with a few more months of training, he can begin to send me out on patrols- he claims that any Templar worth his salt should learn to crawl before walking, and walk before running. He says that being stationed at a Circle is like walking, and I must be patient before I go off to hunt demons and blood mages. While I am eager to go out and do more than stand and keep guard, I understand Knight Commander Greagoir’s philosophy and will endeavor to be patient.

My fellow Templars vary from newly assigned ones like myself to the grizzled Templars near retirement. While no one is as close a friend to me as Alistair, there are a few that I have formed a solid camaraderie with. I know I can trust them to watch my back as I will watch theirs.

While fraternization with Mages is discouraged, I have come to know a few in the month I’ve been here. There is First Enchanter Irving, whose resemblance to Brother Gabriel in both appearance and mannerisms is almost uncanny. I sometimes wonder if it is an elaborate prank, but I doubt it. There is Enchanter Wynne, who you are already familiar with, who still rules the infirmary with an iron fist. Her apprentice, Anders, is as formidable a healer as she. He, however, is prone to spitting sharp barbs at his patients when Wynne isn’t listening. I’d rather tend to my own injuries than be subjected to his commentary and scolding.

Then there are the un-Harrowed Mages, a small collection of apprentices my age and younger who can not be called full Mages yet. Jowan is a frantic mess who trips over his own feet and is often scolded by First Enchanter Irving. The one apprentice Mage who alarms me is an elvhen man, Surana. He doesn’t smile, barely speaks, but he’s constantly in and out of the Infirmary for his burns. Surana, I’m told, is an alchemist. It seems that his research often blows up in his face. I’m afraid we will one day wake up to find that he has blasted the tower down around our ears.

Despite the chaotic nature of having so many people in one place, Kinloch is peaceful and I have found my footing here. I suppose, if I were to tell Branson anything, it would be this: if you never leave Honnleath, you’ll never know how you feel about South Reach and a new apprenticeship. I hope that will help him and you, Mia. Thank Rosalie for the mitten instructions, I will be certain to practice them. Thank you for writing, Mia. It was pleasant to have something familiar in a new place, and your letters are always welcome.

Your Brother,

Cullen

Postscript- Knight takes pawn at e3.

(Enclosed is a small illustration of a lone stone tower that looms over a lake.)

-

Tenth of Drakonis, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

You brat, you nearly made me cry with the conclusion of your letter! If I wasn’t so busy I would write you a letter every day, but you will have to do with what I can manage to write to you. And Branson. You convinced him, Cullen, and he left for South Reach last month. Now I have to write to him and you, and Branson’s become quite the letter writer. He’s pleased to report that he’s doing well and is excited to learn- the blacksmith in South Reach is apparently specializes in blade forging. Branson’s last letter was full of diagrams for the knife he’s planning forge and send me.

Rosalie was delighted that you are pleased with her mitten pattern. She’s already practicing new patterns- it turns out one of the Chantry mothers, Mother Maude, is an avid knitter, and Rosalie goes to the Chantry every Wednesday to swap pattern ideas and knit together. I’ve grown more skilled at spinning wool, though Mum is better at it than me. Da’s carving and carpentry work is growing more famous outside of Honnleath, and a minor noble in Redcliffe ordered a new bed for his wife. Da’s devoted to the work- it should be done by summer, and he is determined that it will be perfect.

I’m glad that Kinloch is peaceful, Cullen. The Dalish caravan came by again, earlier than they usually do, and their faces- every one of the Dalish looked harrowed and solemn, even as they smiled and joked and traded with us. Eyes darted about to every shadow, and there was a wariness that I have never seen before. The old woman I traded with confided- in hushed tones- that there has been trouble on the roads. Bandits and bad weather, she said, and worse, but she refused to say any more than that- and warned us to take care. Normally I would disregard such talk as idle rumor, but… Cullen, everything seemed _off_ somehow, in a way that I can’t quite articulate. I hope it is nothing more than some poor luck, and not a sign of bad times to come.

I’m sorry to end this letter on a dour note, Cullen. I’m certain all will be well, and soon.

Love,

Mia

Postscript- Bishop takes pawn at h7

-

First of Cloudreach, 9:29

Dear Mia,

I am glad that everyone is well in Honnleath. There are stories of unrest sweeping across Ferelden, it seems, and the movement of Grey Wardens in the country does not bode well for anyone, I think. I pray that it is merely King Cailan trying to foster healthy relationships with the Wardens, but instinct says otherwise. Whatever it is, Mia, do take care. I don’t know how Ferelden will last through a Blight, even if the Grey Wardens return to us. From the tales that are told of previous Blights, nowhere will be safe. I wonder what it was that made the Wardens begin recruiting again despite their previous banishment from Ferelden. It must be serious.

Jowan was scolded again by First Enchanter Irving- he was reading tomes on magic that were in the restricted section. Few Mages are permitted access to that area- few Templars are allowed there, for that matter. In fact, the only two Mages who use the restricted section on a regular basis are Surana (who is always looking at alchemical texts and muttering under his breath) and Anders (who grabs every anatomical sketch in the collection while cursing). The library’s patrons aren’t particularly happy ones, and Knight Commander Greagoir has assigned me to keeping watch over the restricted section to develop my patience. I don’t believe it is working, for the hours of watching both Surana and Anders glare at the books is a dull affair that stretches my patience to the brink.

I am glad that Da has such a prestigious commission! It will be good for business, and will satisfy his own desire for a challenge, won’t it? I know that you, Mum, and Rosalie are busy with your small wool empire, and I am sure you are challenging yourselves with running that as well. How are Rosalie’s experiments with dye progressing? How are you feeling, Mia? Do you still have time to write the stories that you dream up? I rarely have time to sketch. Your letters are the only time I manage to indulge myself. I suppose we must put our passions to the side in order to work.

I am sorry that my own letter was grim, Mia. Perhaps it is the weather keeping me in a miserable mood. The skies are grey and the rain freezing, and Lake Calenhad’s waters are as stormy as the sky. I hope to be in better spirits soon.

Your Brother,  
Cullen

Postscript- Knight takes queen at d1. I can tell that you are out of spirits, Mia. That was uncharacteristic for you.

(Underneath the postscript is one massive illustration of a large table covered in books. In the background there are shelves full of books and papers. Standing at each end of the table, surrounded by books, are two robed figures. The one on the right is tall and thin with a long, sharp nose and thin, unsmiling mouth. He looks as though he is about to stab the book before him. The figure on the left is shorter, his long dark hair tied up in a tail, and he is captured in the act of tucking a loose strand of his hair behind one long, pointed ear. He also looks like he plans to destroy the book he is reading. Cullen has labeled this illustration as “Anders and Surana in the library. No one hates books more than them, it seems.”)

-

Thirteenth of Bloomingtide, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

Da’s been working on the backboard of the bed and it is stunning- even the rough carvings are gorgeous. There is nothing quite like it, I think. A whole herd of deer are just galloping and leaping over flowers. Da’s very proud of it so far, and I love it. I wish it could be my bed, instead of adorning some noble’s bedroom, but I can’t complain. I got to see how it was carved and crafted, and that is something to treasure.

Mum’s thinking of purchasing another spinning wheel so that we can spin together in the evenings. It’s been exhausting work, but we’re doing well. I have heard nothing more of bandits and bad news, and the sky is bright and flowers are blooming all along the lanes and streams around Honnleath. Everything is so bright and wonderful that I almost can’t remember how miserable the previous month was. All was darkness, but now it is light and sweet. It does not feel as though doom could fall upon our heads, but then you hear rumors of Wardens roaming all over the countryside and all that sweetness goes away. Then the sun shines again and you just can’t be gloomy.

I am in better spirits, you see, and while there is little time left to me to write stories I do what I can. I have no wish to let my skills rust into nothing, so I have taken to writing short stories and poetry. It isn’t much good as I haven’t had much practice, but I refuse to let it die. Much like you and your drawings, I will continue to write when I have the chance to. Perhaps I will beg Mum to hold off on buying a spinning wheel so that I may write every once in a while when she spins. Rosalie’s been working on perfecting a certain shade of pink, though I fear some of the components she wants for her dye are far too expensive for us to purchase at the moment. But when she gets an idea in her head she is determined to see it through. She’s a lot like you, Cullen. Stubborn. Branson’s still sending knife designs, less elaborate than the first ones, and I’m glad to report that he has settled into South Reach comfortably. I hope Kinloch is as comfortable for you, and that you will be safe (even when guarding the library from patrons who look like they want to burn the books they’re reading).

All My Love,

Mia

Postscript- King takes knight at d1.

-

Fifteenth of Justinian, 9:29

Dear Mia,

Your letter was misplaced and sent to Redcliffe, hence my delayed reply. You see, I am trying to reply to you in a timely manner! I have finally had an adventure outside of the Circle- there were reports of a demon attack on a farmstead, and I was brought along with a few senior Templars to gain some experience in the field as we dealt with the problem. It was… enlightening. While the threat was eliminated, dealing with a demon was disconcerting. I didn’t realize that demons could see into your mind the way that they do. It is one thing to read about demons, but it is another thing completely to experience them first hand.

While I am glad to have helped people and eliminated a demonic threat that was causing havoc, my encounter was… unsettling. I do not know how to describe it beyond that, Mia. The demon _looked_ at me, Mia, with those strange red-gold eyes of fire, and it laughed. It sounded like a chorus of shrill, screeching birds, and it looked at me and spoke. I know I must ignore what it said, for I know it was only said to unsettle me, but I find that I can’t forget what its words.

“Oh, you will suffer. You will _suffer_ on your chosen path,” it cackled. And even after it was defeated the words haunt me still. Can demons see into the future? What knowledge lies within the Fade? I have not slept well since that encounter, and I do not know who to turn to to assuage my concerns. I may ask First Enchanter Irving and Knight Commander Greagoir for permission to look into the restricted files on demon research. Perhaps knowledge will offer me the comfort that prayer has not given me.

But enough of my problems. I am glad that everyone is well at home, and that Branson has settled into his life in South Reach. I am sorry that Rosalie has my temperament- I know that my stubborn nature caused Mum and Da no end of grief when we were growing up. It is unfortunate for them that we are all of a stubborn nature. You’re as stubborn as they come, Mia, and we all followed your lead, I suppose. I do miss how peaceful Honnleath could be- between my first mission taking care of a demon threat and my duties watching the library (Surana nearly blew up a table and has been banned from the library for a fortnight, thank the Maker), I would like a moment of peace and quiet. Perhaps I am waxing nostalgic because of the weather. The hot temperatures makes me think of that little lake near Honnleath I would visit when I needed quiet. I have dealt with homesickness before, but I have not felt it so acutely until now.

If it isn’t too much of a trial, Mia, could you write something about Honnleath? Just- describe it all to me, from the meadows and forests to home to the town itself. Even describe the strange statue in the center of town, the one the pigeons roost on. I’m almost afraid I will forget it. Parts of the place feel more like a dream than real, and I don’t want to forget where I came from.

Love,

Cullen

Postscript- Rook to f8.

(There are sketches of flowers in the margins of the letter, wildflowers that bloom during the summer months- such as Kingcups, Columbines, Cornflowers, and Honeysuckle.)

-

Third of Solace, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

The sun is so hot that it feels like we might melt if we spend any time out in the middle of the day. What is worse is the humidity, which is so sticky that you feel both the water and your sweat sitting on you like a second skin. But then you walk under the towering pine trees, the oak and maple, and it’s cool. The ponds are full of fish, the brooks full of frogs, and the trees full of birds. Songbirds, robins, finches, pigeons, starlings, and blackbirds roost in the branches of every tree, and the buzz and hum of insects fills the air with noise. It’s never quiet in the countryside, but it is peaceful.

It’s colorful this time of year. The grass is a rich green color, the sort that looks cool to the touch, while the trees are a variety of glass green. All the green is broken up by the wildflowers that bloom in so many shades and with such vibrancy that it’s nearly blinding in its brilliance. I can’t name all the wildflowers, for it would take far too long and I want to save paper, but the sunny fields and lanes are dotted with yellow kingcups and blue cornflowers, while shady areas are full of pale lilies of the valley and blue columbine. Some of the local children spend their days picking all the flowers to craft flower crowns and bouquets, and inside every house it seems as if the outdoors has crept through the doors and windows. Even our own home was invaded by the outdoors, as Rosalie’s brought in her plant collection for her experimental dyes. Flowers can be found in every corner of the house, brightening up the dark wood surfaces.

Da’s work is in the barn, and the headboard and foot board of the bed are almost done- the carvings of deer and flowers look like they could leap out of the wood and into the barn. He’s got to finish the posts next, and he’s carefully selected beautiful straight bits of walnut to work with. The entire structure is beautiful and well crafted, and Da’s very proud of it. We’re all proud of him- we thought that, with his bad back, he’d be miserable without his farming, but he’s found a great deal of joy in carpentry and carving. Mum’s been working on her spinning, as always. I am out in the fields with the sheep (we’re thinking of getting a sheep dog now that we have enough sheep that a dog would be handy), Mum and Rosalie spin and dye, and then we sell what we’ve made at the market in Honnleath. Our home’s changed since you’ve been away, but we’ve still got the house, the chicken coop, the barn, and the well. We had to replace the thatch roof last summer, and the house still smells of fresh hay.

Honnleath is still bustling. The roses in the Chantry garden are blooming, white and bright against the grey stone building. The stone statue in the square is still there, and the pigeons like to sit upon its head as if they are party hats. The streets are always covered in mud, the baker has fresh bread for sale (though his wife has expanded to pastries when they’ve got enough butter and sugar), the blacksmith is still working away at his forge, and the traders trade at the market every Saturday. It’s a small town, but it’s home. 

Wherever you go, Cullen, I hope that you can read this letter and remember Honnleath. That demon you faced might say that your future will have suffering in it, and maybe it was right. Suffering _happens_, no matter what path you choose to walk. It wasn’t prophecy, it was an educated guess. At least, that’s what I believe. It was trying to frighten and hurt you, Cullen, but you already know that. I hope that my letter helped you somehow. I hope it made the memory of the demon go away, at least for a little bit.

Your Sister,

Mia

Postscript- Knight to e4.


	4. Kinloch Tower, Part Two

Fifteenth of August, 9:29

Dear Mia,

Thank you. Your letter did more good than any of the books I read or the conversations I had. Remembering Honnleath and the reasons why I joined the Order helped me recover my senses: I want to make sure that no one has to face the terror and chaos a Demon can cause. I want to protect people, people like our friends and neighbors. Reading about how peaceful Honnleath is is a comfort. Thank you.

Surana is back in the library, and so resumes my watch. He keeps muttering riddles under his breath and cursing, so I gather that his research has hit another wall. Nothing seems to frustrate him more than a lack of progress, but I’m used to him now. I’m even used to Anders and his snark- today he asked if I would “make myself useful” and grab a few of the scrolls stored on the top shelves of the restricted section. Despite the snark and rudeness, I helped. Unfortunately for me, the scrolls contained images of a… graphic nature. Anders was amused by my reaction. Why do they keep such things in the Circle library?!

No, I refuse to detail what I saw, Mia. Do not ask me to explain the images.

Knight Commander Greagoir reluctantly gave me permission to read research in demons- he even suggested I speak with First Enchanter Irving to learn more on the subject. It has been enlightening, but frustrating as well. When it comes to demons and the Fade, it seems that there are no simple answers. Not even Mages, who encounter demons on a regular basis, have many theories and few facts. There is a comfort in knowing that both Templars and Mages have documented ways to resist demonic influence and eliminate demonic threats. Anders happened to see my research and commented on it with his typical teasing. He suggested that I drink a cup of warm milk with a dollop of honey “for the nightmares.”

Condescending ass. He’s the best healer in Kinloch, but he is frustrating. I can almost hear you agreeing with him, Mia, so don’t. Just… don’t.

On a lighter note, I have received a letter from Alistair! He’s traveling across Ferelden with Duncan, recruiting others to the ranks of the Grey Wardens. The search is rather lackluster. The nobility have no desire to join up, and there are few countrymen who wish to join the Wardens when they’ve only just returned from banishment. But Alistair is forever the optimist, and he sounds happy traveling and seeing new things. Duncan is apparently a patient and skilled warrior, and Alistair brags that he could defeat me in combat with a few tricks he’s learned. I do miss having a friend, though I am often too busy to socialize or even have a moment to myself. I have allocated all my spare moments to responding to your letters!

My first knitting project was an unmitigated disaster. I hope Rosalie will be patient with my failures. I slipped more stitches than I care to admit, and my hands are too big and clumsy to correct my mistakes. The other Templars haven’t commented on the knitting, though Surana raised an eyebrow and asked if I would knit him mittens.

“I don’t care if they’re ugly, so long as they’re thick enough to protect my hands from burns,” he said. He’s a quiet sort, Surana, but his direct manner of speech has a bit of bite to it. But he isn’t wrong, Mia. My first knitting attempt _is_ hideous. Send my love to Mum and Da and Rosalie, and send it on to Branson (I’ve gotten a letter from him as well, though it was a brief little note asking if a knife would be useful at Kinloch). And I send my love to you, Mia. Thank you for writing to me all these years.

Your Brother (Who has failed at knitting),

Cullen

Postscript- Queen takes pawn at d4.

(Underneath the letter is a sketch of a tangled lump of yarn and two wooden knitting needles. Only the most charitable of people could consider it knitting.)

-

Twenty-Third of Kingsway, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

Rosalie says that she forgives you, and that practice makes perfect. Untangle that mess and start over, you’ll get the hang of it eventually. I’ve taken on more duties on the farm as Mum’s cough has gotten worse of late. She stayed out in the rain herding the sheep back in (we really ought to get a dog), and is doing poorly. Da’s worried that it might be chokedamp, but as that only happens in the cities I think it’s just a regular chill she caught. I visited the apothecary in town and purchased an herbal tea for her, and Rosalie’s under strict orders to keep Mum in bed. Mum is very irritated by the entire ordeal. Isn’t it funny how she was the fiercest of dragons when we were sick, but is the sulkiest of patients? And she says that I’m worse than her!

Da finds it all very amusing, though I think he laughs to hide just how worried he is. For all of Mum’s spirit and strength of character, her bouts of sickness are not easy on any of us (Mum least of all). But other than that, we’re doing well! The pumpkins in Farmer Mackey’s field are ready to pick, and he’s enlisted the help of all the village children to gather them up- his wife paid them in shortbread, and all parties were pleased. The Thompsons had a windfall of apples in their orchard, and decided to supply the harvest fair with cider. The Dalish caravan came back to town, and everyone was looking better than they did in the winter, and they joined us in the fair. While some of the older folk grumbled and looked askance, it was lovely to have visitors to trade and share with. I swapped several embroidery patterns with a girl my age, and we danced together to a few songs the musicians played. Neither one of us were particularly good at dancing, but it was fun to try! Did you learn formal dances at Bournshire, Cullen? I know that some Templars are expected to show up at court functions across Thedas, so it’s a possibility!

She was really lovely, Cullen, with the prettiest red hair and blue eyes. Her name’s Liane. I hope I’ll see her again someday, though I suppose she’ll meet a good deal of interesting people on her travels and forget all about Mia Rutherford in Honnleath. Oh dear, that sounded rather morose, didn’t it? I suppose it’s just the stormy weather and restlessness of being cooped indoors that is getting to me. Please don’t tease me too terribly, Cullen, for it is easier to write to you about such matters. You’ve seen me pine uselessly, and Maker knows no one at home can handle my pining at the moment. But never fear! I’ll roll up my sleeves and put my pining behind me, for that won’t get sheep sheared or wool carded and spun.

Anyhow, ignore my moroseness in this letter. It’s just such a rare thing to find a girl that seems to like you back. Rosalie’s a bit young to understand these things (though she has not stopped _teasing_ me!) and with Mum sick and Da fretting and Branson being away (and a bit of a blockhead), you’re the only one I can speak to who will sympathize with me. You had better, Cullen, or I shan’t send you Rosalie’s knitting instructions! Don’t be glum, I’ll send them to you anyways.

Love from your (dreadfully romantic and tragically forlorn) sister,

Mia

Postscript- King to e2

-

Fifth of Harvestmere, 9:29

Dear Mia,

I promise that I won’t tease you for your heartache. Liane sounds like a lovely girl, and I’m glad that you had a good time at the harvest fair. Sometimes I worry that you take too much on and that you’re running yourself into the ground. There’s no shame in having a night out, Mia. You have earned a little bit of fun, and I’m certain that Mum and Da will be happy that you took the time to enjoy yourself.

I should perhaps beware of offering advice that I am in no position to follow. I doubt I will ever run into someone that I could fall into an epic romance with, no matter what the poets and bards sing. Templars must not pursue their Mage charges, and fraternization within the Order is highly discouraged. Considering that I will not leave Kinloch Tower for some time, I doubt that I will run into anyone I would be romantically interested in. The frustrating side effect of the isolation is that I keep _noticing_ people, people who I can not, must not, and will not pursue in any way. Keeping to my vows is not difficult, Mia, but it does grow lonely to have no one to confide in. My fellow Templars are as busy as I am, and often too tired to engage in deep conversations, and speaking with the Mages beyond standard greetings is not recommended. 

But it is hard to not form attachments, Mia, especially when we have so few people to speak to. I know that I’ve grown fond of Anders and his acerbic wit, though he doesn’t much care for me. Anders doesn’t seem to care much for anyone, or at least that’s the impression he wishes to give. Jowan is like a clumsy puppy, eager to run but causing chaos with every step. And Surana….Surana is a bit of a mystery, truth be told. He’s observant, clever, and stern. The Enchanters are all prodigiously proud of their prize alchemist, and he is given a good deal of privileges so he may continue his research. You would think he’d lord over his fellow Apprentices, but Surana doesn’t. He’s got a soft heart under his icy exterior, and while he isn’t exactly friendly he can be kind (even if it gets him in trouble). First Enchanter Irving scolded him for using magic and alchemy to create little explosions for the younger Mage apprentices last week in the evening. Yes, it could have been dangerous. Fire isn’t a safe thing to play with, after all. But I can’t deny that it was also beautiful. The sparks drifted through the night sky like fat snowflakes, and the image is burnt in my mind.

Sometimes I wonder if I am mentally strong enough to fulfill my duties as a Templar. I worry for when Surana undergoes his Harrowing. I have grown fond of his bluntness. I _like_ him more than I believe is proper, but if I am incapable of standing guard, of striking him down if he is possessed, if I falter- I hope the Maker does not test me in such a way. I do not know how I would bear it. I do not think I could.

I am determined to prove myself, however. I will not falter. I will remain resolute. I am a Templar, and I _can_ do what must be done. However, I will pray that that terrible day will never come.

Your Brother (who is far more cowardly than you),

Cullen

Postscript- Pawn to f5.

(Included at the bottom of the letter is an illustration of a lake at night. What looks like a fireball is hanging up in the sky, throwing off sparks of light that arc like the branches of a willow tree.)

-

First of Firstfall, 9:29

Dear Cullen,

The first frost arrived on Firstfall (because of course it did). No snow yet, and the ice disappeared with the first rays of the sun, but there we are! First frost of winter, and I’m already longing for spring.

I believe that that Warden Commander and your friend, Alistair, passed through Honnleath on a journey from Redcliffe. Or perhaps he was heading towards Redcliffe? Roger’s never been good at keeping a story straight, though he’s very talkative. But he said that the Warden Commander stayed the night in the inn, and he cared for the men’s horses and was very impressed by the men’s manners. The Warden Commander seemed a bit more aloof, but polite, and his companion (Alistair) was as friendly and warm as any local. It didn’t seem as if they were recruiting inside Honnleath, though I doubt we’d be able to produce any warriors who haven’t already left the town.

I wasn’t able to meet with your friend, unfortunately. By the time I made my way to Honnleath with the wool I spun and Rosalie dyed, the Warden and his companion were long gone. Such a shame, for I would have asked Alistair for tales of the mischief you got into as a new recruit. I only tease, but it would be nice to speak with someone who has seen you relatively recently.

Rosalie’s come down with the same chill Mum has, but she can stay in bed without complaint. She’s an easy patient to care for. Mum’s up and about again, but not feeling her best, and Da’s been awfully worried about her. So have I. She says she’s feeling fine, but she isn’t. I hope I’m only worrying, but I’m not a fool. She really ought to rest more, but no one can make Mum do what she doesn’t want to do. I think all of us are a little stubborn like that. Standard Stanton behavior.

I’m sorry that you’re lonely at Kinloch. I’m also sorry that my words stirred up that loneliness. But I will always believe that the fact that you question yourself and the Templars is a good thing. Blindly following anything, even a good and noble thing, can be dangerous. I wish that I could help make life a little less lonely for you in Kinloch. I hope the letters help. Hearing from you brightens everyone’s day here at home, and we’re always eager to hear more.

Your Sister (who has brewed more herbal tea these past two months that the apothecary is starting to worry for us),

Mia

Postscript- Knight to g5.

Post-Post-Script- You are far braver than you think, Cullen. As Da says, only a fool is fearless.

-

Fifth of Haring, 9:29

Dear Mia,

I’m sorry for the delayed reply. I was hastily recruited for a trip into Val Royeux concerning a mysterious mansion plagued by demons. Spirits, the Enchanter of the White Spire insisted, not demons, but as these spirits were causing utter chaos the decision was made and we had to eliminate the threat before it spread beyond the boundaries of the abandoned mansion. The situation nearly spiraled out of control, but thankfully we prevailed and managed to cross back into Ferelden before the first snowstorm. Thank the Maker for small miracles.

It was an eventful way to enter Val Royeux, and we had little time to ourselves before we left the city, but I managed to purchase a few gifts for everyone back home. For Da I purchased a book of engraving and carving techniques from Nevarra. I bought a pair of embroidered leather gloves for Mum- the inside is lined with sheep’s wool purchased from Honnleath, so I know it is from the family farm. I thought she would enjoy how far everyone’s hard work has come. I sent a book on metalwork to Branson in South Reach, as well as a sheet of addresses of different cloth merchants (he asked that I do so, should I find myself in Val Royeux. I don’t know why, but who can fathom Branson’s mind?). I found a detailed book on plants and their many uses for Rosalie. The book is a compilation of many different authors, and while some have to do with magic and healing (written by different Mages throughout Thedas’s Circles), there is a large portion dedicated to dyes and staining fabrics. I hope that it proves useful and that it will keep her entertained while she recovers. And for you, Mia, I bought a brush for your hair since it always gets tangled.

I tease. You probably unwrapped your parcel first and know that I found a silver fountain pen with several interchangeable nibs. Yes, lionesses were cast in the silver- I saw it and thought of you. Some of the older Templars jokingly call me “Little Lion,” but I think the nickname would suit you far better. I doubt that you would wince when a Rage demon roared to life, Mia. You’d probably rap its knuckles with a spoon and tell it to use its indoor voice when inside. Even your statement, that it is good to doubt and question, shows your clarity of mind and courage. I’m hopelessly lost in trying to keep track of my morality and beliefs, and you pick up the thread and can follow it to a clear ending.

Sometimes it is hard to remember your voice, Mia, but the moment I read your letters it all comes back to me, and I’m ten years old and your bandaging my latest scrapes and bruises while scolding me. I miss Honnleath terribly at times, though I was so hasty to leave when I was a boy. But I know I’ll see home again someday, and until then there is much to be done to keep Ferelden safe. Until then, I send you and Mum and Da and Branson and Rosalie my love.

Your Brother (who really isn’t lion-like at all),

Cullen

Postscript- Queen takes knight at e4.

(Under the postscript is an illustration of a bustling city street. Beautifully ornate spires tower over the street. Cullen has captioned this as “Val Royeux’s ‘Golden Road.’”

-

First of Wintermarch, 9:30

Dear Cullen,

Many happy returns in the new year, Cullen! The snow has kept us locked inside and on the farm, but we’re cozy and comfortable. Thank you for all of our gifts- Mum’s been wearing the gloves for the past few days and is certainly proud of them (as am I, considering that we know where the wool came from). Da’s been reading his book every evening, as is Rosalie. Rosalie’s fascinated by all the chapters in her book, though her favorite is the section on dyes. And I, of course, am using my pen to write to you. It’s gorgeous, Cullen, and while I want to say you shouldn’t have I adore it and can’t bear the thought of giving it up.

Of course, you’ll insist that we can’t send you anything, but if I could I’d send an entire cake in the mail. And the scarves that Rosalie knitted, and the shirts Mum sewed and the parchment box Da crafted. Branson managed to send you your dagger, I hear, and I suppose that will have to do as a new year’s gift.

We’re all doing well, though we’ve heard some odd news from Ostagar- something about armies coming together? I hope it’s not some sort of civil war, or worse. With the Wardens running around in Ferelden again, fears of traitors and rebellion are as rampant as fear of the Blight. But Ostagar is far enough away that I think we’ll manage just fine. Don’t worry about us, and promise to stay safe in Kinloch, Cullen.

Love from your sister,

Mia

Postscript- King to f1.

-

Second of Guardian, 9:30

Dear Mia,

The day I feared came and passed- Surana passed his Harrowing with flying colors, and while I am grateful for that small miracle it seems that for every success there is tragedy. Jowan was caught looking for forbidden books on blood magic, and Surana somehow got mixed up in the business- while Knight Commander Greagoir was incensed, Enchanter Irving offered another suggestion: join with King Cailan’s armies and the Grey Wardens.

Warden Commander Duncan has been busy, it seems. He was in Honnleath only a few months ago, but he (without Alistair) managed to make his way up to Kinloch to recruit willing Mages to fight for King Cailan- and he just so happened to overhear Surana's plight. When Knight Commander Greagoir refused to hand Surana over, Duncan invoked the rite of conscription. Surana left that very morning to go to war, and that was that. We are all expected to go on with our lives within the Circle, as if nothing happened and Surana simply never existed.

Anders, oddly enough, seems happy. I overheard him say to another Mage that “at least one of us gets to do something, for once.” I suppose everyone feels cooped up here in Kinloch when there seems to be a war going on outside of these stone walls. I know my duties and will fulfill them, but all this talk of armies and enemies makes me uneasy. What are they supposed to be fighting? It is murky at best.

I must go. We’re patrolling another area of the tower today to try and uncover whatever it was Jowan was dabbling in. We will take the utmost precautions.

Your Brother,

Cullen

Postscript- Queen to e1, Checkmate. Mia, what is the matter? You’re clearly distracted.

(In the margins of the letter is a quick sketch of a stern, older man with dark eyes and long, dark hair pulled back in a low tail. His beard seems to have hints of silver in it. The sketch is labeled “Warden Commander Duncan.”)


	5. Kirkwall, Part One

Twentieth of Justinian, 9:30

Dear Cullen,

I don’t know what to write.

Mum’s dead. Da too, shortly afterwards. The darkspawn overran Honnleath. I took Rosalie and whatever we could pack in the cart and we fled to South Reach. That’s where I’m writing now. Branson’s mentor is letting us stay in his home with his wife and children while we try to figure out what to do next. I managed to bury Mum and Da side by side. Mum got sick from chokedamp and died quickly. Da… oh Cullen, it was the Blight. And no one would help, of course not, and everyone was running but I had to do something, so they’re buried on the farm, up on the hill next to the apple tree. We managed to save a few sheep from the flock, but we couldn’t take them all. So now it’s me, Branson, Rosalie, the cart horses, and three lambs, plus whatever we managed to pack into the wagon. I don’t even remember thinking as I packed. I threw things in and we ran.

I did everything I could. It wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.

Your Sister,

Mia

(This letter was sent to Kinloch Tower three times, but returned to South Reach each time unopened. No messenger would take the letter a fourth time.)

-

Twenty-Fifth of Solace, 9:30

To Mistress Mia Stanton Rutherford and her family,

Your brother, Ser Cullen, is alive and currently recuperating in Val Royeux. Kinloch Tower was overrun by demons during the Blight, and while he and a few fellow Templars were rescued by Grey Wardens stationed in Ferelden, his injuries were extensive. It has been judged best that he heals in Val Royeux before transferring elsewhere to resume his Templar duties. This recovery, I caution, may take some time.

I have taken the liberty to write to you concerning his ordeal in Kinloch and convalescence in Val Royeux, for it seems that you and he are close. If you wish to write to him, write to the address provided. I will ensure that he receives your letters, and I will deliver any reply he wishes to give.

Your Faithful Servant,

Ser Ricard of Ostwick

-

Eleventh of August, 9:30

To Ser Ricard of Ostwick,

I thank you for your letter, sir, and have enclosed two letters to my brother. If it is agreeable to you, could you detail the circumstances of my brother’s rescue to me? We have heard rumor after rumor, and I know that Ser Cullen will not be entirely truthful with me.

I apologize for my frankness, Ser Ricard, but I do not understand how a Templar Knight from Ostwick has ended up ferrying letters between my brother and myself. I mean no insult upon you or your character, Ser. I am merely seeking enlightenment out of concern for my younger brother.

Kind Regards,

Mia Stanton Rutherford

(There are two letters enclosed with the above, one dated on the Twentieth of Justinian, and the other on the Eleventh of August.)

-

Eleventh of August, 9:30

Dear Cullen,

Rosalie, Branson, and I are all doing well. As well as you can expect, I suppose. We’re finding our footing in South Reach. I’m renting a small room up above the apothecary here in the city. She is an elderly cousin of the blacksmith Branson’s apprenticed to, and I’ve taken work in her shop while we figure out what to do next.

We’ll be staying together, whatever happens. You’ll always know where to find us.

Rosalie’s birthday has come and gone. She’s eleven now. We couldn’t do much to celebrate (no one is feeling particularly festive), but I managed to bake a fruitcake. Rosalie’s been handling everything with more composure and strength than I thought possible, but she’s still only a child. I wish I could do better by her. By everyone. I heard all the reports, the rumors, Maker’s Breath even all those months ago the Dalish warned us of bad times ahead! But we didn’t listen. I didn’t listen.

I know that whatever happened to you, it must have been awful. Please, just tell me that you’re alive, Cullen. Just knowing that much will be a weight off my mind.

Love,

Mia

-

Third of Kingsway, 9:30

To Mistress Mia Stanton Rutherford and her family,

I have delivered the letters you sent to your brother, as you requested. Though I understand and sympathize with your concerns, out of respect for Ser Cullen and the ordeal he endured at Kinloch Tower, I believe it best that he be the one to tell you of what he experienced during those months. It is not my place to speak for him, beyond saying that his time was a trial few could withstand. Your brother, Mistress Mia, is stronger than most, but he seems shaken even as he heals.

I am not offended by your queries. I am temporarily posted in the White Spire as guardian to a few Mages from Ostwick Tower, and, as a senior Templar, I was given the task of de-briefing your brother and other Kinloch survivors when they arrived. It was as I sorted through Ser Cullen’s scant belongings that I uncovered your letters. I found your new address in South Reach and reached out to you to let you know that your brother was alive and in Val Royeux.

I hope I have answered your questions to your satisfaction. I will do what I can to encourage that your brother write to you.

Your Faithful Servant,

Ser Ricard of Ostwick

-

(There is another letter delivered the day Ser Ricard’s arrived at South Reach. It was written with a shaking hand.)

Mia,

I’m alive. That is all.

Cullen

-

Fifth of Harvestmere, 9:30

To Ser Ricard of Ostwick,

I thank you for taking the time and care that you have with my brother and myself. I know that you must have many responsibilities, and I am deeply grateful that you have taken it upon yourself to let my family and I know of Cullen’s condition. While I am unhappy with the lack of answers provided, I respect your concern for my brother’s privacy and will not question you any further on the topic.

Thank you, again, for all you have done for me and mine.

Kind Regards,

Mia Stanton Rutherford

-

Dear Cullen,

You are clearly not fine. We’re functioning here in South Reach, but we aren’t doing “fine,” not at all. Rosalie’s having nightmares, Branson’s taken to brooding (I believe he thinks that if he were there he’d have been able to change what happened), and I… I can admit that I am not coping well. I find that I cannot sleep at night. Too many memories float through my head, haunting me with what was.

But if you need me to travel across Ferelden and Orlais to speak with you, Cullen, I’ll do so in a heartbeat. You only have to ask, I promise.

All My Love,

Mia

(There was no reply.)

-

Tenth of Firstfall, 9:30

To Mistress Mia Stanton Rutherford and her family,

Ser Cullen has been relocated to Kirkwall to take up a post within the Gallows. I will return to Ostwick to resume my own duties in that Circle at the end of the month. I have included the address in which you may contact your brother once he has settled into Kirkwall. Be warned that the post is currently not reliable and it will take some time for letters to be ferried across the sea.

Perhaps this is not my place to tell you this, but I believe that you must remain tenacious in writing to your brother. While I know that he did not reply to your last missive, it is my belief that having someone who is willing to speak with him will lift his spirits.

Your Faithful Servant,

Ser Ricard of Ostwick

-

Seventeenth of Firstfall, 9:30

Dear Ser Ricard of Ostwick,

I do not know if this letter will reach you before you depart for your post, but I was compelled to write to you. Thank you for assisting me while writing to my brother. He may not have replied, but I am grateful for your support and consideration.

Be well,

Mia Stanton Rutherford

-

Twentieth of Firstfall, 9:30

Dear Cullen,

You didn’t tell me you were transferred! Another Templar informed me that you are now stationed in Kirkwall. I hope my letter reaches you promptly. I was warned that the post would not be reliable.

Tell me when you’ve finally settled into your duties. Tell me how you are. We’re functioning here in South Reach. The apothecary, Gladys, has been very generous and lets us care for our horse and the lambs in her yard. Many refugees are pouring into the city, even though a new king has been installed on the throne and the Blight is over. No one really knows what to do, but I suppose we’ll just keep on surviving. I doubt we will return to Honnleath any time soon. The thought of seeing what might have happened to our home is horrific. We can build a new life here. I must believe in that.

All My Love,

Mia

-

First of Wintermarch, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

The new year is here. May it bring us something good.

The tide of refugees has lessened. Life is getting back to normal. At least, it’s growing as normal as it ever will be after enduring a Blight. It was mercifully short, but the devastation was, and is, vast. Yet the world is coated in ice and snow, and it feels as if the world is new.

Branson is nearing the end of his apprenticeship, and his mentor wishes to hire him on as a fully fledged blacksmith. Branson specializes in blade-crafting, and will have much work in the coming days as he proves himself worthy of mastery. Rosalie is working in the apothecary garden. The book you got her last year is coming into great use now. I’m the one writing the orders and letters, as Gladys’s eyes are weak. We’re surviving, Cullen. It isn’t always easy, but we’re surviving.

How is Kirkwall? How are you? Are you healing? Are you eating? Sleeping? You can take your time writing a response, I only want to know that you’re well.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Tenth of Guardian, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

There’s not much to report here in South Reach. I’m saving up money so we can purchase a home outside the city with a little bit of farmland. Nothing large or elaborate, but something we can call our own. I managed to throw the money pouch in the wagon as we left Honnleath, but it isn’t enough to purchase land. At least, not the land I have my eye on. We’re going to live an independent life again. I won’t let everything Mum and Da built be eaten with the Blight. It will take a lot of work, and I had to take on a job at the local tavern to help bolster our income, but between Rosalie, Branson, and I we should manage.

I’m not too fond of city life. South Reach isn’t a large city, nothing like what you’ve seen, but there are so many people, and the streets are always dirty and cold. We’re lucky that we live in a good area of town, but there are other, less desirable places in South Reach. I miss Honnleath and its familiar routine. I miss the people. South Reach doesn’t feel friendly like Honnleath did. Perhaps it is because the city is so much bigger than our small country village. Whatever the case, I look forward to living a little outside of the city someday. I want to see the wide open sky again without being hedged in by buildings.

Kirkwall is much larger than South Reach. Does it feel overwhelming there? How are you settling in?

All My Love,

Mia

-

Fifteenth of Cloudreach, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

Spring is starting to rear its head in South Reach. Even in cities the flowers bloom, I suppose. I’m enjoying the sunshine, and Rosalie and I like traveling out on the good days to harvest dandelion and nettles. Rosalie takes her book with her and flips through the many chapters on herbal healing so she can identify plants. She has a better eye for it than I do.

Branson’s hard at work crafting in the forge- he has come a long way from making wobbly knives. His mentor is proud of him, though the man doesn’t say so to avoid stroking Branson’s ego. We have dinner with him and his family every Sunday. It’s kind of them to welcome us all into their home. I’m determined to pay them back someday.

What have you been doing, Cullen? I know that you must be busy in Kirkwall, and I know that you have never been a great writer of letters. I also know that writing after everything we’ve both been through is hard. But it would be a relief to hear from you, Cullen. Please let me know how you are.

Your Loving Sister,

Mia

-

Nineteenth of Bloomingtide, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

We are all doing well. It’s wetter here in South Reach than in Honnleath. The rain hasn’t let up and we’re all going stir-crazy.

I always ask about news from Kirkwall when I’m working at Red Rose Tavern. We have a few merchants that come by, so I always hope that I’ll run into someone who knows something about the city you live in now. It would be nicer if I heard it from you.

Please write back soon.

All My Love,

Mia

-

First of Solace, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

Pawn to e4.

Love,  
Mia

-

Thirtieth of Solace, 9:31

Mia,

Pawn to e5.

Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! When I first thought of writing this story, these were the letters I wanted to write. I'm very excited to have reached this point in the story, and I'm excited to write more letters in the future!
> 
> Quick Note: There won't be any updates on this story next week because I'm going to be out on vacation. Thank you all for reading!


	6. Kirkwall, Part Two

Tenth of August, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

Pawn to f4. How are you? We are well in South Reach. Summers are unbearable here. It is so hot we open all the windows at night and still can’t escape the heat. I miss the cool breezes that came rushing down from the Frostbacks. I miss the apple orchard, the lilies of the valley, the little winding brooks that we always crossed between the farm and Honnleath. Maker, I even miss that statue the pigeons roosted on!

Rosalie has grown so skilled at helping Gladys in the apothecary that she is now her apprentice. I still manage the shop and orders, but Gladys and Rosalie do the work of herb collecting. Gladys often has Rosalie read from the book you purchased her. It is an invaluable resource. I’m glad we saved it.

Branson is utterly taken with his final work to prove his mastery. Every conversation with him devolves into him waxing poetically about ores and blade design. While it pains me to say it, our dreamy little brother has indeed found his passion in life. I’m very proud of him.

As for me, I am managing everything as well as I can. I wish we could be in the countryside instead of the city, but I’m saving my money and keeping my eyes on the market. As soon as we can afford it, I’m buying a farmhouse and moving out with Rosalie. I just need more time. I wish I had your patience, Cullen. I could use that now.

Enough writing about all of us. What have you been doing in Kirkwall? What is the city like? How are you feeling? I hope to hear back from you soon.

Love,

Mia

-

First of Kingsway, 9:31

Mia,

Pawn takes pawn at f4, King's Gambit accepted.

I’m alive. My duties are light until Knight Commander Meredith Stannard deems me fit for active duty. I am glad that I have some work. It keeps me busy.

Kirkwall is large and unpleasant. They call it the City of Chains. It is properly named. Tevinter statues of slaves loom over the port, draped in stone and iron chains as large as a full grown man. The city is crowded with refugees, the regular populace, and a shipwrecked crew of Qunari sailors. It feels as though the city will erupt into chaos at any moment if not for Knight Commander Stannard’s diligence.

Stay safe,

Cullen

(Five silvers are included with the letter. There is a note in the slim leather wallet: “For your farm.”)

-

Twentieth of Kingsway, 9:31

Dear Cullen,

Knight to f3.

That’s a lot about Kirkwall, but what about you? How are you feeling? Are you eating enough? Sleeping? I know you might not wish to speak of what you’ve been through, but please! Take care of yourself!

Rosalie’s back to her brewing experiments, this time in Gladys’s kitchen. Gladys is delighted to have found a kindred spirit, and they spend many afternoons talking about herbal concoctions and plants. I can’t make heads or tails of it all, but it makes me happy that Rosalie has found something that brings her joy. She has grown so serious, and hearing her laugh with Gladys brings a smile to my face. There is little to laugh about, but we are finding joy in small things when and where we can.

Branson’s in the forge most days. He’d sleep there if he could, but his mentor is very strict with him and insists he rest. I think Branson and you are similar in that manner- you won’t rest unless someone makes you. I hope that someone is keeping an eye out on you in Kirkwall.

Love,

Mia

-

Thirteenth of Guardian, 9:32

Mia,

Knight to f6.

I have been out on patrol for the past few months and missed your letter. Kirkwall is chaotic at best. Something about this city reeks of demonic influence and dark magic. Knight Commander Stannard has it under control, but only just. She needs as much help as she can get. As I have recovered from my injuries, I have taken on patrols and monitoring other Templars who are falling derelict in their duties. The seedier parts of the city seem to infect the Order until it is falling apart at the seams.

I am tired, but functioning. I will write more when I have the time.

Be Well,

Cullen

-

Fifth of Drakonis, 9:32

Dear Cullen,

Pawn to e5. Please try to rest. Your Commander may have cleared you for active duty, but if the situation in Kirkwall is as fragile as you say, you must not push yourself to exhaustion. You won’t do anyone any good if you are injured or relapse.

Branson brought a dog home tonight. Poor thing was scraggly, covered in fleas and half-starved, but despite his appearance he is well mannered and sat at the back door as we drew a bath for him. He is some sort of mabari crossed with a hound, long legged and massive, with short brown fur. Now that he’s clean he’s sleeping on Rosalie’s bed and snoring loudly after he ate some of the quail we were eating for dinner. We must come up with a name for the creature, though I haven’t the slightest idea what fits him best. Gladys thinks he’s a noble dog, so serious and dignified, and that he needs a name to match (like Rueben). Branson suggested Copper, and Rosalie says Hickory or Acorn might be nice. Do you have any suggestions, Cullen?

Please take care of yourself,

Mia

-

Tenth of Bloomingtide, 9:32

Mia,

Knight to h5. I am taking care of myself, but I will be on patrol again soon and will not be able to reply for some time. There are strange events moving in Kirkwall, and I don’t know what to anticipate next. Blood mages lurk in every corner, apostates on every street, and nowhere is safe, only safer. I cannot even trust my fellow Templars. There are several cases of Templars in the Gallows who aided Mages in their escape, and fraternization is a common infraction here. Commander Stannard is harsh on those who break these rules, but the rules are there for a reason.

I think Knight Commander Marcus was right, all those years ago. Mages are dangerous. I refuse to let what happened at Kinloch happen again. The Gallows is a much larger Circle than Kinloch ever was. If it fell… the chaos would be horrific. I can’t let it happen. Not again.

There are residents of Kirkwall who are willing to help monitor dangerous situations (namely the string of unsolved murders and blood magic), provided you turn a blind eye to whatever else they happen to be involved in. There’s a refugee, another Ferelden, who keeps popping up with his ragtag band of companions to manage bandit gangs along the coast and dragonlings in the mines, not to mention blood mages in the streets. If you don’t ask questions and ignore the staff on his back (and his companions, one who looks disturbingly familiar), peace is quickly restored with significantly less bloodshed than Stannard’s methods. 

I find myself at a crossroads, Mia. On one hand, there are Mages in Hawke’s company, and Mages are not safe. On the other hand, Kirkwall is balanced on a knife’s edge, and anyone who can push it further back from toppling over into the abyss is a welcome presence in the city. Hawke (and his companions) are effective. They do good work. They are _needed_ here. In this particular case, I fear that I must compromise my morals for the greater good of the city. Hawke and his companions are, after all, only alleged apostates, and my resources are better spent elsewhere.

I must conclude. I have much work to do.

Be Well,

Cullen

Postscript- Why not Bernard? Bernard is a good name for a dog.

-  
First of August, 9:32

Dear Cullen,

I apologize for the long hiatus in my writing. We all came down with fever- first Gladys, then Branson, then I, and finally Rosalie. It has been a long two months of sickness hopping from each and every one of us until we recovered. Gladys had the hardest of it, but she’s as fit as a fiddle now. You wouldn’t know the woman was nearing her nineties, she’s so spry and always active (poor eyesight aside). We’re all doing well, though I’ve had a bit of a frog in my throat and still don’t sound like myself. Bishop to e2, by the way.

Bernard (it is a good name, Cullen, thank you) has been a wonderful watchdog and companion. Branson insists I take him with me when I go to the tavern to work in the evenings. He’s a good friend to have when I walk back to the apothecary at night. Bernard has done so much good for our family, and I am glad that Branson brought him to us (even if the dog snores so loudly it rattles the windows).

Kirkwall sounds chaotic, and terribly dangerous. If the city is as dangerous as you say, finding people that you can trust is more important than digging into their lives and past. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but I’d rather you be safe. If this Hawke and his friends keep you safe, Cullen, then I am glad they have helped you. Please be careful, Cullen. Don’t work yourself to exhaustion, and take care.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Fifteenth of August, 9:32

Dear Mia,

Pawn to d6. I hope you’re fully recovered from your illness, Mia. You lecture me for overworking, yet you clearly do not heed your own advice. I hope that Branson and Rosalie made you rest while you were sick, and that Bernard was an attentive nurse (Bernard is a good name for a dog, isn’t it?).

Hawke is out of the city with his brother on a fool expedition led by the Tethras brothers. They’re dwarven merchant princes of some sort, and while the older one, Bartrand, gives off the impression that he’s looking down his nose at you, the younger brother, Varric, has his nose in everyone’s business. You can’t take a step without him knowing of it, or him knowing someone who knows someone who knows what you’ve done. As careful as I am when I am investigating apostates in the streets, Tethras (Varric) knows when I’m about and what I’m doing. Yet he and the Hawke brothers are gone, and they’ve somehow gotten a Grey Warden with them (I haven’t managed to get a good look at him, but something about the man is frighteningly familiar). I’ve no idea when they will be back, or even if they will return. The Deep Roads are not a friendly place, even with a Warden watching your back.

I have to patrol the city again, this time the brothels. It seems that some of the younger Templars are spending all their money and leave time in the district, hopping from one brothel to the other and causing no end of trouble. I may be relatively new to Kirkwall and the Gallows, but Knight Commander Stannard believes that I am up to the task of taking the other Templars to task and smoothing over the bad feelings. It is exhausting, thankless work, but it is better than trudging through the mud searching for apostates in the mines.

How are things in South Reach? Are you still looking at farmland?

Be Well,

Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for my delayed update. I had only planned to have a one-week hiatus, but it ended up being nearly two!


	7. Kirkwall, Part Three

Fifth of Drakonis, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

South Reach is still firmly in winter’s grasp, and I can’t even remember what it feels like to be warm. Your letters (as rare as they are) are a welcome escape on the farm. Rosalie rides Turnip into town every morning to work in Gladys’ shop. I believe that Gladys is considering giving Rosalie the apothecary when she finally retires- but the old woman is as stubborn and healthy as a mule (even healthier than Turnip, if that can be believed). If it weren’t for her weak eyes, she’d still be writing out every prescription and harvesting every herb. Rosalie’s doing wonderfully, and acts far older than her years (nearly fifteen, now). Sometimes I worry about her. So much happened when she was so young, and she never had the carefree childhood we did.

Branson’s settled in town in a room above the shop, working as a blacksmith alongside his former master. He’s walking out with Alina, who is a clerk in the merchant’s guild. She’s a sweet girl, though from what Branson tells me she can be fiery tempered if her accounts are unbalanced. That’s how they met- someone ordered pewter candle holders and the numbers in the books didn’t match the order, and she stormed into the shop demanding answers. Branson is smitten.

The farm is doing well- the money you send helps more than I can say. It’s small, simple, but it’s become my home and I love it dearly. It wouldn’t have been possible if not for you, Cullen. Thank you for taking care of us. Even across the sea, we have you here in South Reach with your (infrequent, I know you’re busy but THREE MONTHS is a long time, Cullen) letters and gifts. I know you think it’s not much, but hearing from you means the world to us all. If we can’t see you, reading a letter is the next best thing.

No, Cullen, to answer your question in your latest letter, I’m not working at the tavern anymore. It takes all of my energy to run the farm nowadays, and I find myself nodding off at the dinner table more times than I’d care to admit. The sheep herd might be small, but it is hard to manage on my own. Bernard, for all his virtues (which are many) is a terrible sheep dog. But it is good to have something that is truly mine, and I’m proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish. I’m able to produce small quantities of high quality spun wool, and it keeps the farm running and food on the table. With your help, it keeps us well enough.

We all miss you, and hope that you’re staying safe in Kirkwall. The little news we hear from the city is discouraging. Are there truly riots in the streets? Please tell me you’re staying out of that, Cullen. It’s already dangerous enough work, being a Templar. Don’t get tangled up in skirmishes in back alleys, please!

All My Love,

Mia

-

Twelfth of Drakonis, 9:34

Dear Mia,

It has been a long, long day. Several days. Weeks? Months? Kirkwall is a mess, as always, and no matter what is fixed it seems that something else is being broken. I feel as if I’ve been spread out so far that I can’t seem to focus on anything nowadays beyond the next task that lies ahead. I know that the Knight Commander depends on my efforts, that the Templars here in Kirkwall are all stretched thin, but it feels as if I am close to breaking. I’ve taken to having meals in my office so I may go over paperwork while I eat something. We are all near collapse here, trying to keep the city from falling to ruin.

Hawke was back at the Gallows yesterday, and he mentioned suspicious activity in the Chantry. One of the Reverend Mothers was inciting violence in the city, playing on tensions between the stranded Qunari and the local population. Some of the Qunari have integrated with the population, forsaking the Qun, and others have isolated themselves completely- they have been searching for a missing artifact of great value, and the Viscount begged Hawke to negotiate peace with the Qunari leader. Apparently Hawke is the only person in this entire city the Arishok respects, and one of Hawke’s associates has a passing knowledge of Qunari language and culture and acts as his translator. Whatever the case, there’s an assassinated Reverend Mother, Viscount Dumar’s son is dead, and Hawke is in the middle of it all (as usual, might I add).

Hawke was trying to gain an audience with Knight Commander Stannard, but as she was busy he spoke with me. He was all broad smiles and bawdy jokes, but he’s worried about the tensions in the city. I can’t say I blame him. Grand Cleric Elthina’s policy of non-interference has done nothing but cause more problems in Kirkwall, and Viscount Dumar is a figurehead at best. If it weren’t for Stannard I think the city would crumble into the sea. Her methods are harsh, but Kirkwall is a mess. Hawke disagrees, but he seems to thrive off the chaos.

In summary: Kirkwall is Kirkwall. We are all tired, but alive. Tensions are rising, and I fear that worse is to come. Until then I will continue to work to keep the Gallows standing. It is all I can do. Hearing from you is a welcome respite from the chaos I find myself in. It reminds me that there is good in the world, no matter the chaos.

I hope you find more time to rest, Mia. If you need more coin to hire an extra hand, I can send more. My needs are few. There’s only me to take care of in Kirkwall, and I can make my paycheck last.  
Take Care,

Cullen

-

Twenty First of Cloudreach, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

I only just received your letter, but based on the date you wrote it I’m going to assume that the post was once again delayed. Was there another quarantine, or did the Knight Commander lock down post in the Gallows again? How long do you think that will last? One month, or an entire year?

That’s uncharitable of me. If Kirkwall is as bad as you say (and I’m sure it’s worse because you always try to ease my worries and never tell me everything), her iron grip on the Gallows is not a surprise. But I can’t say that it’s doing any good- you said that there are more cases of blood magic and possession now than in previous years. While it may be that her efforts are uncovering more apostates, couldn’t it be possible that her work is driving more Mages to desperation? Perhaps it is simply my bias speaking, but with the new King in power and the Hero of Ferelden being a Mage, many in Ferelden are willing to give magic new consideration. It is what saved us from the Blight, in the end. I suppose all I wish to say is that you should continue to ask questions, Cullen, if only to keep yourself honest.

We are doing well, Cullen, and we have good neighbors. The family next door, the Blakes, will occasionally send their children over (two boys and a girl) to ask if I need help, though I think it’s because their mother is desperate to get them out of the house. They are active, rambunctious children, but they mean well and are a great help. They’ll often keep an eye on the sheep if they’re out with their cattle grazing in the pasture. I return the favor, of course, whenever I have the chance of it. The children love playing with Bernard, and Bernard enjoys being spoiled. He is a wretched sheep dog, but a wonderful companion.

Branson has been spending quite a few nights at the forge and speaking with various merchants, and has been awfully secretive of late. I hear that he’s been writing to a gem cutter, and while I don’t want to anticipate anything it sounds like I should start preparing for an engagement and wedding. Whatever you do, if you get a letter from Branson you must pretend to be surprised and delighted to hear the news for the very first time!

I hope to hear from you soon, Cullen, but I understand that there will be delays in the post. Please stay safe in Kirkwall, and please, think of what I’ve said.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Thirtieth of Bloomingtide, 9:34

Dear Mia,

I will consider your words. As an outsider to Kirkwall and Templar relations with Mages, perhaps you have a perspective that I do not. It is important to take all thoughts into account, even when I disagree with them.

I will not deny that I was angry when I first read your letter. Mia, you don’t know what it’s like here, the chaos that happens every day within these city walls. Much has happened in the time since I received your last letter, things that have given me pause. Events have passed that have made me reconsider beliefs I thought set in stone for these past few years, and now I wonder if you were perhaps correct all along. You have always encouraged me to ask questions, Mia, and now I find myself full of them. Answers, however, are in short supply.

Hawke’s mother is dead. She was murdered by a blood mage, one that walked the streets of Kirkwall for years and murdered many other women in a twisted attempt to bring back his dead wife. It was… the word nightmarish is not graphic enough to describe the horrors that we found down there in his lair, Mia. It was beyond description.

I haven’t slept well since that day. I don’t deserve to, because had I _listened_ to Hawke, had I paid attention and done my duty, this would not have happened. But I was so focused inward, so certain of the threats within the Gallows and fixated on the lackluster performance of my fellow Templars, that I didn’t see what lay outside these walls. I failed in my responsibilities. Lady Leandra Hawke’s blood is as much on my hands as it is the killer’s. Had I done what was right instead of what was easy I know I could have tracked this killer down. It is a Templar’s duty to deal with apostates and abominations. Hawke should have never had to shoulder that burden.

I’m sorry, Mia. I am not good company at the moment, even in letters. There is so much chaos within Kirkwall, and it feels as if everything I believe is being overturned before my eyes. I believed Knight Commander Stannard when she demanded that I focus my attentions inwards on the Mages within the Gallows, and yet look at what that has wrought. Then there are the letters from other Circles from Mages and Templars alike, all of them asking after those who come into the Gallows- and despite my efforts it feels as if the tide of queries is neverending. What is worse is that I don’t always have answers, for if I’m not investigating other Templars the Knight Commander sends me to other cities to speak with other Templars and ferry Mages back and forth. It is rare for me to spend a week in the Gallows these days.

I am grateful for your letters, Mia. The news I receive from South Reach is often the highlight of my months. I will, of course, maintain my silence in regard to Branson and his soon-to-be fiancee, and wait for his letter giving me the news. I hope that you, Rosalie, and Branson are all doing well, and remain that way, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Stay Safe,

Cullen

-

First of Justinian, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

Oh Maker, I’m so sorry Cullen. I know how hard you work and how much being a Templar means to you. I realize how much you must blame yourself for what happened. I’m so sorry for Hawke- I know that he is not a friend of yours, but he has been such a constant in your letters that it feels as if he is one of the few supportive people you have in Kirkwall. He must be suffering terribly, and I’m sorry for the pain he has gone through. I am sure he could use a sympathetic ear in the coming days, and I hope that his friends will be there for him.

Cullen, you mustn’t blame yourself for another man’s actions. You have no way of knowing if you could have caught this murderer or not. It isn’t something that you could have foreseen, and if years of investigation from multiple people yielded nothing, I highly doubt that you would have suddenly solved the mystery, as it were. You take too much blame, Cullen. It might be a Templar’s duty to prevent magical disasters, but you can’t be everywhere and do everything! No one can.

Is it possible for you to have a small break? I realize that Kirkwall is always in a state of crisis, but this constant stress is obviously tearing you apart. You need time to recover, even I can see that.While I’m glad that my letters can bring you some comfort, I think they make a poor substitute for actual sleep. But if you need more news from home, then I’ll gladly give you some good news.

Rosalie’s taken to her apprenticeship with Gladys with a fervor and enthusiasm that is almost infectious. Despite her age, Gladys is able to keep up with Rosalie until you would think they were both fifteen year old girls. Rosalie has grown up so much, and half the young boys (and some of the girls) make excuses to go to the apothecary to speak with her. She doesn’t seem to notice it, though Gladys teases her often enough. “So long as they’re buying medicine, I don’t care _why_ they come into the shop,” Rosalie always replies. She’s forever practical, Rosalie, but I’m glad that she can laugh and joke with Gladys. She so desperately needed a friend, and Gladys was there for us, for her, when we needed her.

Branson finally let me in on his sneaking and scheming, and yes, I was correct. He’s planning on proposing to Alina, but he needs my help (and Rosalie’s, and possibly yours if you’ve got access to a merchant who will sell you a garnet for a good price). He wants to forge a ring for her, and has gone out of his way to make it a surprise for her. I’ve been keeping an eye out and asking about jewels from the merchants I know, but I’m sure that Kirkwall will have more of a market. I thought you might appreciate the good news. We’re all excited to welcome Alina into our family. I think you’d like her, Cullen. She’s brilliant and head-strong, and never fails to make Branson smile, so I love her already.

As for me, I ran into the most surprising person while I was at the market yesterday. Do you remember Liane, the Dalish girl from all those years ago? She was in town buying supplies for her clan! South Reach isn’t as kind to the Dalish as Honnleath, and so it was decided that only a few clan members would come into town and buy what was needed. I helped her with her shopping, finished mine, and we caught up on what has happened to us over the years.

She’s still beautiful, with the prettiest blue eyes and bright red hair, and when she laughs it’s as if the sound wraps around you in a great embrace. We promised to write to each other, as I’ll always be in South Reach and her clan travels a reliable route nowadays (safer to keep to the main roads, she says, especially after the Blight). I’m just thankful that she and her family made it through the Blight relatively unscathed.

I hope that you’ll have better days ahead, Cullen, and I hope to hear from you soon.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Twentieth of Justinian, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

My letter was apparently turned back at Amaranthine, something about ships being turned back from Kirkwall due to the fighting. Fighting? I enclosed the first letter with my second and I’m sending it again. I’ve listened to all the rumors (even lurked in the taverns again for news), but there’s absolutely nothing coming out of Kirkwall. If you get this letter, please tell me what is going on? Was there a riot in the Gallows? In the city proper? Why has the post been stopped? You said that might happen, and I’m used to delays, but the letters have never been turned back before! Is there a plague in the city? Please write back when you receive this.

Love,

Mia

-

Fifth of Solace, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

What little news we hear from Kirkwall is not good, to say the least. Liane’s had better luck gathering information, and she’s kindly shared with me what she knows- apparently the Qunari in the city, under the orders of their leader, attacked the city. At least, that is what we are hearing. We also learned that the Viscount is dead, Knight Commander Stannard has taken control until another Viscount can be elected, and it was Hawke who defeated the Qunari leader in single combat and ended the bloodshed.

If even half of this is true I’d say that you are living the plot of an adventure novel, but I’ll settle for hearing a simple “Yes, this happened,” or “No, this was an exaggeration,” from you. Really, I’ll just be happy to hear from you at all, Cullen. Please let me know that you are well.

Love,

Mia

-

Thirtieth of Solace, 9:34

Dear Cullen,

Oh Maker, please don’t let this be like the last time you went silent, Cullen. Please, just one note, one letter, just let me know that you’re well, because there isn’t a Ser Ricard of Ostwick to write and let me know that you’re alive. Please. Please write back.

Love,

Mia

-

Tenth of August, 9:34

Mia,  
Alive. Will write more in the coming days.

Cullen

-

Fifteenth of August, 9:34

Dear Mia,

This letter, and future letters, will be brief. The Qunari revolt was swift but brutal. They set fire to the docks and blew up several streets with their black powder. The casualties were great. I am thankful that Hawke intervened when he did. His actions saved many lives that day. People are already calling it the Battle of Kirkwall, and writing songs dedicated to the city’s Champion.

We are all busy trying to rebuild. I believe Knight Commander Stannard was caught completely off-guard. We had all expected rebellion from Mages, not the Qunari. She is quite unsettled, and has increased patrols and responsibilities for the Templars while sending me out to cement alliances with the Templars in other Circles in the Free Marches. I’m to Starkhaven, then Ostwick, then back to Kirkwall. I will write back when I have the time.

Your Brother,

Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delayed update! I meant to put this up on Tuesday, but between internet issues and NaNoWriMo (which I've absolutely failed, oh well), this came out later than intended. I hope that it's acceptable regardless. Thank you for reading!


	8. Kirkwall, Part Four

Tenth of Solace, 9:36

Dear Cullen,

Liane wrote from Amaranthine. Her clan is currently camped nearby, so she sent me more news from Kirkwall. The port cities are a hive of gossip, and rumors leak through that wall of silence that your Knight Commander Stannard has erected around the city like water through a sieve. Liane wrote most of the rumors, though she says some were so ridiculous she didn’t want to waste paper and ink on them (something about Grand Cleric Elthina being associated with the Black Divine, she didn’t specify). However, between Liane’s letters and my own speculations, I have come up with a list of the rumors that have the most basis in fact. Please correct me if I am wrong in any of these particulars.

There have been no elections for the position of Viscount, despite several contenders for the seat.  
Templars have been witnessed patrolling all sections of the city and conducting midnight raids through the Alienage and Lowtown, presumably searching for apostates.  
The Grand Cleric has not addressed these raids or the lack of elections.

Frankly speaking, if even a fraction of the rumors I’ve heard are true, I see why there are talks of wrestling power out of the Grand Cleric’s hands. Her leadership stoked the fires that led to the Qunari attack, and her lack of intervention has left Kirkwall without a viscount for… two years now? Your Knight Commander sends you and the other Templars out on raids through the city, which causes only more unrest and chaos. I can’t help but be reminded of what you have said about Kirkwall, that the city seems cursed. I fear that you may have had it right. Kirkwall seems cursed.

Liane says the Alienages are the hardest hit by the hardships that plague Kirkwall, followed by Darktown. I know that blood magic is a danger that can only be dealt with by Templars, Cullen, but I hardly think that midnight raids in the city will uncover secret dens full of blood mages every night! I know you feel guilty over what happened with Hawke’s mother, and I know that you carry that guilt with you like a millstone around your neck, but you can’t change the past. Please don’t let your sense of guilt drive you, Cullen. Please, I urge you to take a step back and think before you act. Something about this seems… off. I can’t explain it, but between your lack of letters and the myriad of rumors I know that I’m missing some bit of information that will make this situation clear. I can’t imagine what it must be for you when you’re in the thick of it all.

Ferelden is not just recovering but thriving after the Blight, but it seems trouble followed you to Kirkwall, Cullen. It is as if you were tossed out of the proverbial pan and were thrown into a great fire. Believe me when I say I want you to be safe, but I also urge you to think about what is happening within your Order and within Kirkwall. You aren’t an army, Cullen, you’re just one man. Please be careful.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Fifth of Kingsway, 9:36

Dear Cullen,

I’m writing another letter because Liane’s updated me on Kirkwall’s precarious situation, this time in person, and it seems you haven’t received my last few letters. Have I angered you, or are you busy? Or have the messages been blocked again?

I apologize for my rather accusatory letters of late. I shouldn’t be taking my frustrations and worries out on you. The lack of information has been frustrating, true, but that’s no excuse, is it? You would think that I would have learned some patience by now- I’m just shy of thirty years, Cullen, and I still can’t help but demand answers from you, answers that you might not even have. I’m sorry for my impatience. You would think I'd have learned patience by now, but it appears that pigheadedness is just one of my other faults.

We miss you terribly, as always. It’s hard to wait for news of you and fearing the worst, and it is hard to hear about you when it’s not from you yourself. Liane’s got a cousin who has an uncle who lives in Kirkwall, and from what he says, you have been the most reasonable of the Templars who lead the raids in the city. Liane’s cousin’s uncle (truly this web of family is extensive!) was quick to add that you rarely lead the raids these days- apparently you are either at your station in the Gallows or away from Kirkwall completely. 

I’ll give you a simple update from South Reach: we’re all well. Branson has finally asked Alina to marry him, and she’s accepted! We’re getting ready for a spring wedding (something about good luck, I’m told), and Branson’s already purchased a home in town for them to move into. It’s more like a plot of land near the shop, but he and a few of his friends in town are already building the frame and setting the foundation. It will be ready by winter, and fully furnished before the wedding.

Rosalie’s been sending letters off to libraries at different universities and private collections for information on medicines and healing- she takes her work with Agnes so seriously, and has considered studying midwifery as of late. “It isn’t so different from helping the sheep with their lambs, you know,” she’ll say. Unfortunately for me, the local midwife lives firmly in town, and Rosalie would have to live there if she wishes to learn and work with Agnes in the apothecary. She’s determined, and I don’t want to stand in her way. It will be a bit lonely on the farm without her, but I’ll manage. We always have, and Rosalie wants it so badly… what do you recommend?

Liane and her Clan are staying in the area for the next fortnight, so we’ve been spending some time together. She’ll bring her embroidery over while I spin wool into yarn, and we talk. Liane has a way with telling a story. She just throws her entire being into telling tales, and she’ll often forget the embroidery as she talks (she’ll wave her hands around to fully illustrate her points, it’s adorable). The sheep are well, Bernard’s as wonderful as he always is, and the autumn is beautiful with its crisp winds and brightly colored leaves. It’s not Honnleath, but it’s our home now. I rather like it.

That’s the latest news from South Reach, and I hope it all reaches you and finds you safe and happy, Cullen. I’m sorry for being so harsh with you, and I hope to hear from you soon.

Your (Incredibly Penitent) Sister,

Mia

-

Twelfth of Harvestmere, 9:36

Dear Cullen,

Happy Birthday! You’re twenty-five now. It’s been over twelve years since we’ve seen each other, and every time this day comes around I can’t help but wonder what you’re up to and how you spend your birthday. Templar life is one of simplicity and devotion, I know, but does anyone know that it’s your birthday? Does anyone celebrate it with you? Do you even remember, or do you forget?

I’m sorry. Dates like this make me sentimental, and I tend to get a little morose when I’m thinking of all of your birthdays we’ve missed. There are so many of those, which is a disturbing thought. I decided to bake a cake to mark the occasion anyways. Perhaps knowing that someone out there is celebrating for you will bring you some joy? I haven’t the slightest clue what to send along as a gift, as you’re not responding to my letters.

We miss you, and we all ask that you keep yourself safe in Kirkwall. I realize that that is a difficult thing to request, but I beg that you try to not get yourself killed, Cullen. Especially considering that it’s your birthday and it would be a poor present to yourself. Be well, be safe, and please write back. I can even send you a sample letter, with blank spaces provided to express what you are feeling.

Your Sister,  
Mia

(Another sheet of parchment was enclosed with the letter.)

Dear Mia,

I am (BLANK). The weather in Kirkwall is (BLANK). I have been doing (BLANK). How are you? I must conclude this note, as I need to (BLANK) and will be busy. I will write more soon.

Your Brother,

Cullen

-

First of Haring, 9:36

Dear Mia,

I apologize for my lengthy absence. I only just received your letters this morning, and have been unable to read them all until after evening prayer. Between my travels and the screening of mail in the Gallows it’s a surprise these letters weren’t lost- Ser Thrask was managing the mail before his death, but one of the new recruits has taken the task and has all but disappeared in the chaotic mess. It’s a surprise that I received anything at all.

Kirkwall is a mess, as always, and Knight Commander Stannard has turned her eye inward on the Templars stationed here- there are still several who are suspected to be sympathetic with the Mages who are slipping out from under our guard. The city is recovering from the qunari attack, and while there are several viable candidates for the position of Viscount it seems that every choice will cause more chaos as people rally behind their chosen candidate. So Grand Cleric Elthina waits for the situation to stabilize before the elections are held, but the waiting only heightens the tensions. Everything is reaching a boiling point, and even the most innocent of actions aren’t beyond scrutiny. Once again, post will be slow. I am traveling to Ostwick tomorrow, as the Knight Commander there is in talks with Knight Commander Stannard to send reinforcements for the Grand Cleric’s protection. Perhaps I will see Ser Ricard again. I’ll send him your regards.

Your Exhausted Brother,

Cullen

(There was another piece of parchment included with the brief letter.)

Dear Mia,

I am (TIRED). The weather in Kirkwall is (WET). I have been doing (MANY HOURS OF FILING PAPERWORK). How are you? I must conclude this note, as I need to (READ MORE REQUISITION FORMS) and will be busy. I will write more soon.

Your Brother,

Cullen

-

Twentieth of Wintermarch, 9:37

Dear Mia,

Tomorrow I leave Ostwick to return to Kirkwall. The seas were too rough to make the voyage earlier, and I am ashamed to admit that I wish the weather will take a sudden turn for the worse so I may enjoy a few more days of peace.

Talks with Knight Commander Brigid went well, and she has promised five Templars to serve as extra security for Kirkwall and Elthina- they will apparently take shifts so as to always have a fresh set of eyes and ears. While I am grateful that the main objective of my voyage is accomplished, I have taken the opportunity to rest. I had almost forgotten that a Circle could be peaceful! Perhaps anything is peaceful compared to Kirkwall, but Ostwick is quiet. At times you can only hear the lapping of the ocean against the cliffs and the cry of the gulls on the shore. Mages here speak with each other more freely, and there has not been a case of blood magic or demonic possession in five years. Five years! There is no fraternization between Templars or Mages and no one is lax in their duties, but the tension that marks every encounter in Kirkwall is absent here.

I happened upon Ser Ricard in the chapel a few mornings ago, and not only did he recognize me, but he remembered you and your letters. He politely asked if I write to you, and mildly suggested I take the time to pen a missive to you before returning to Kirkwall. He may have said “perhaps you should write to your sister before you depart,” and “do give her my regards, Knight Captain.” There is something about his manner that makes it clear his suggestions are not suggestions, but orders. 

He may not be a Commander or Captain, but Ser Ricard is the moral strength of the Order in Ostwick, and the other Templars follow his lead. Only yesterday I witnessed him berate a new member of our Order for gawking at one of the young Enchanters working in the medicinal herb garden. Even in the middle of winter the Ostwick Mages manage the medical garden by covering the beds with glass and metal domes (perhaps this could be of use to Rosalie and Agnes?). It is one of the places the Mages gather in, so many Templars keep guard as well, which is how the trouble started. The new Templar’s gazing set off a round of whispers and snickering amongst the Mages and Templars, which drew Ser Ricard’s attention and wrath. Mia, his rebuke was enough to even make my ears burn with shame: “They are not animals at the market, boy. They are people in need of our protection, and we do not take advantage of those we protect and watch!”

The Enchanter pretended that nothing was amiss as she worked, but Ser Ricard went to her and apologized loud enough for all to hear. Her reply was too low to make out, but Ricard seemed satisfied. She was quick to leave the gardens after that, basket of weeds in hand as her twin braids thudded against her back. It was a small incident that I shouldn’t have paid much attention to, and yet I can’t help but think of it. Ostwick is so different from Kirkwall, and even from Kinloch. Would they be different Circles if we had more Templars like Ser Ricard? Would what happened in Kinloch not happened if he was present? It has given me much to think on, and I find myself wondering if I can change, and if it is worth trying to reverse course. Ostwick is so different. I don’t know if The Gallows will ever be like the sleepy, quiet Ostwick Circle, but I can’t help my hopes. Perhaps, with enough work and patience, things can change.

I don’t want to leave this peaceful place, but I must. I’ll write to you again soon, Mia, and I hope the new year will bring blessings to us both.

Your Brother,

Cullen

-

Eleventh of Wintermarch, 9:37

Dear Cullen,

It is such a relief to receive not one, but two letters from you! Perhaps I will write Ser Ricard a thank you note. Ostwick doesn’t have the same post bans that Kirkwall suffers under.

I am glad you had some respite from your work, Cullen. You needed time away. The winter storm was a blessing in disguise, wasn’t it? You sounded much happier in your most recent letter. I hope you return to Kirkwall well rested and with that new perspective you gained while out of the city. Perhaps your experience in Circles would be different if there were a Ser Ricard leading the way, but be honest with yourself, Cullen. One man can’t shift centuries of law and practice by simply existing and leading by example. If so, don’t you think Kirkwall and the Gallows would already be different? However, on the other hand, his influence has clearly changed some of your thoughts and perspective on Mages and Circles. I suppose I can’t really say if your experiences would be different if you had someone like Ser Ricard to guide you: perhaps it would be different. Perhaps not. I do know that nothing can be done to change the past, but the future can always be changed.

In any case, you sounded happier in your last letter than you have in months. Years, even. I suppose one can never discount the advantages of a good night’s sleep! Perhaps you can request a temporary transfer? Truly, I do think that would be good for you. Think about it.

I shared your suggestion of glass domes with Rosalie, and she is fascinated! She would like a diagram so she can get Bran to craft the frame, then she can ask a glass maker to make panels. Or perhaps we will find a cheaper alternative. We can have dreams, but the cost would be enormous. Glass domes! Fascinating!

It was so nice to get your letter, Cullen. Two letters. Three? You did fill out the letter I wrote for you, after all. Should we count that as three letters? Whatever the case, it was good to hear from you. I hope this marks the start of your new passion for letter writing!

Your Loving Sister,

Mia

-

Fifteenth of Drakonis, 9:37

Mia,

The news in the coming weeks and months will be distressing. Be assured that I’m alive, I have only minor scrapes and bruises, and I’m doing what I can to keep peace.

A Mage blew up the Chantry and killed Grand Cleric Elthina. There were a few casualties, but it could have been worse. The actual carnage happened in the Gallows. First Enchanter Orsino protested against the search of the Mage quarters- as is his right. The attack came from outside the Gallows. But Knight Commander Stannard insisted, then at Orsino’s reluctance she enacted the Rite of Annulment.

Mia, she didn’t hesitate. She called for slaughter without blinking an eye when she knew the culprit was not among the mages present. Hawke dropped in, because of course he did, the situation escalated, because of course it did, Hawke defended the Mages (he is a Mage and comes from a family of Mages), and soon the Gallows and the city were in an uproar. Orsino turned to blood magic as a last resort. I saw his eyes as he drew the knife, Mia. They were the eyes of a man who knew he was dead and only wished to delay the inevitable. And after he was dealt with, Stannard-

I tried to stop her. I told her to stand down. I gathered the few Templars I trusted, the ones recruited from other Circles this past year and the ones in Kirkwall I knew well, and I ordered her to surrender her appointment. She refused, and she held this wretched, grotesque statue in her hands- it was the hilt of her sword, glowing red. It was infused with lyrium, or perhaps it was made completely of lyrium, I don’t know, but she was ranting and raving about betrayal and blood magic while waving the sword about, and the hideous statues that loomed over us all came to life and it was all we could do to survive the assault as Stannard brought the Gallows down around our ears. We were no longer Mage or Templar at that moment. We merely tried to defeat these horrible statues and end the fighting as Hawke (because of course Hawke was there) dealt with Meredith.

When the dust settled she was dead, the Gallows destroyed, and now there is talk of war. I suppose what he said was right: there can be no compromise, and these past hours have shown me that much. What once was can’t continue. We Templars did this. We are to blame. Mages may have magic, but they didn’t resort to the worst until they had a blade at their throats. They were desperate and frightened and we made the abominations- we might as well have drawn the blood ourselves. We are guilty, Mia, all of our Order, of what the Circles have done to these people, and I cannot see any way to atone for what we have done.

But someone must.

I am currently acting as the Knight Commander. Most of the senior Templars are injured or dead, and as Knight Captain leadership falls to me. We are cataloging the dead, Mage, Templar, and civilian. The numbers will rise in the following days. I do not know what Hawke is up to, but he will undoubtedly try to keep the city from falling to pieces in his own way.

The Mage who blew up the Chantry is gone. I don’t know where. You will probably hear his name in stories and rumors soon enough, but I will not write it, not here. He has not been tried, and I am tired of condemning Mages for their desperation.

I am tired, Mia, but I will endure.

Your Brother,

Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hiatus on this fic was longer than anticipated, but I'm pleased to put it back on my regular writing schedule! Thanks again to everyone reading this story. I wanted to experiment with writing an epistolary fic, and I'm grateful that there is an audience for it. Thank you, once again, for reading!


	9. Interregnum, Part One

Thirteenth of Solace, 9:37

Dear Cullen,

I realize this isn’t the most opportune time to say this, but I’m married. To Liane. We had planned on sending a letter announcing that we were engaged, but then with everything that happened in Kirkwall earlier this year and the chaos it all caused across Thedas we just decided to get married now. Time, as well all know, isn’t our ally, and we were both afraid of missing our chance. So we got married a week after Branson and Alina, and had both a traditional Chantry service and a Dalish one. Liane jokes that we’re doubly bound together, and I don’t care how many ceremonies I have to stand through, I’ll do them all if it means we can be together. Liane plans to travel with her clan in the spring and summer, and return to me in the fall and winter. It isn’t ideal, but I can live with it. She’s worth waiting for.

I hope you aren’t terribly angry with me, or think that I left you in the dark about my intentions. It was a rather hasty affair. We watched Branson and Alina’s wedding and just- knew. It all fell into place quickly after that. I know that you are busier than ever and must take even more precautions than you have in previous years, but I hope that you will receive this as good news, Cullen. There has been so little good news in these past few months, so I hope this letter will brighten your spirits.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Twenty-Third of Solace, 9:37

Mia,

You hadn’t said you and Liane were considering marriage. I had not realized your relationship was so serious. It comes as a bit of a surprise, though not an unpleasant one. I do hope that you have taken careful stock of your decision and the implications: marriage is not an easy thing, Mia, especially with an absent partner. There is a reason few Templars marry, you know. It is hard to be separated from those you love. I know that you are a passionate woman, Mia, but I fear that you have acted rashly and will suffer for it.

I am doing well, considering the circumstances. Hawke and many of his compatriots have left Kirkwall for destinations unknown. I believe only Varric Tethras and Guard Captain Aveline Vallen remain within the city, but one can never be fully certain. Prince Sebastian Vael has taken his title (he was formerly a Chantry Brother) and threatens to invade Kirkwall to uncover the one responsible for blowing up the Chantry and inciting the talk of rebellion in the Circle. Unfortunately the prince won’t listen to reason. The regent, Guard Captain Vallen, Maker, even I wrote to explain that that particular mage has disappeared and we have no further leads, but he is a man on a mission. For now they are threats, but someday they might not be. We must be ready.

I have also spent much time communicating with a member of the Seekers of Truth, Cassandra Pentaghast. She has taken control of the Chantry investigation into the events here in Kirkwall, and has promised (threatened?) to visit the city in the coming months. There is much to prepare for, and I fear that my own investigations into the matter will pale in comparison to hers. It is known that Seekers always find what they are looking for, whatever that may be.

I must conclude this letter, there’s apparently another disaster in Hightown and our resources are stretched thin as is.

Your Brother,

Cullen

-

Twenty-Third of Solace, 9:37

To Mistress Liane,

I understand that I am to offer you congratulations for your recent marriage to my sister, Mia. This news was unexpected, and it has come as a shock. I did not realize your intentions for my sister. Some knowledge of your plans would have been welcome.

Have you thought through your marriage with my sister? Half a year away from her wife is a hardship I would not see her suffer, though Mia has always been strong in the face of difficulties. But infatuation can change people, and Mia has written about you in tender terms. She has a great deal to offer, my sister, even if you happened to be the first to see that. I hope that you will treat her with the respect she deserves.

Regards,

Knight Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford

-  
Fourth of Kingsway, 9:37

To Knight Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford,

This wasn’t how I planned to introduce myself to my brother-in-law, but I suppose this awkward conversation was coming for some time. But as we have now acquainted ourselves in a more formal manner, I will take the opportunity to enlighten you about my relationship with your sister.

I love Mia dearly- I would not leave my clan for half the year if I did not love her. Clan Arras needs all of its members, and a good tailor and leatherworker is sorely missed in the harsh months. But I love Mia, and I have given her what I can give, as she has given me what she can give. We are content with our bargain, and that is what matters. She evidently considers it a better deal than the offers her other suitors have given her, for she did not throw me out of her home. And yes, Knight Captain, she has had other suitors and is more than capable of throwing an unwanted guest out of her home.

If you wrote to your sister more often, you would know that.

But as Mia treasures you dearly and I have no wish to cause her grief, let us bury our grievances with each other in these letters. I believe she would prefer for us to get along, even begrudgingly, than to hurl accusations at each other. So I end my letter in the hopes that we may develop a cordial relationship, for Mia’s sake.

Regards,

Liane of Clan Arras

-  
Sixth of Kingsway, 9:37

Cullen,

You know, an advantage of being married is that my wife doesn’t keep secret letters from my siblings secrets. Isn’t that lovely? So, my dear little brother, who I treasure dearly, I’m writing to inform you to stop being a sanctimonious prig! I understand that you’re under a great deal of pressure, but that’s no reason to dismiss my marriage as nothing but fluff! Liane said she wrote to you, so I’m sure you’ll get an earful from her as well, but I’m not about to let you get away with disrespecting my wife because you’re handling a crisis!

There. Done. I hope I made my feelings on the matter clear, because my marriage is not up for debate and I don’t want to fight with you after everything we’ve all been through.

In other news, I believe Branson and Alina will soon be expanding our family- Branson’s acting a little more puffed up than usual, and Alina’s been… well, it might be a little rude but she’s absolutely nesting in her house. She’s asked Liane if she can teach her some new embroidery patterns while we settle in for the winter. Rosalie’s been working with the midwife to help out in the town (and probably to escape carding wool). If you’re upset at the prospect of me having suitors, you’ll be alarmed by the little army Rosalie has at her heels. She’s taken to getting them to help around South Reach, doing good deeds for those in need. I think our little sister may be trying for sainthood, but as she has shown no interest in the Chantry I doubt she’ll be a Sister. Doesn’t stop Agnes from teasing her. The old lady is finally feeling her age, I think, and while I don’t wish to take away her independence, I have wondered if Branson and Alina would be willing to look in on her more in the evenings. She and her family have done so much for us, it would only be right to give back.

I hope your meeting with Seeker Pentaghast goes well- I hear that she is the Right Hand of the Divine herself! I’ve also heard that she’s slain a dragon, but that could just be a story. Liane once saw her riding a horse through the streets of Val Royeux. She says she was a stern looking woman and not one to be trifled with. She also says that honesty would be the best policy with her- something about the Seeker’s eyes not missing anything. I’m sure that you will be fine, but I hope that you are taking care of yourself. Are you eating? Sleeping? Being careful? We all love and miss you, Cullen. Maybe, when Kirkwall is a little more stable, you’ll be allowed to visit with us in South Reach. You’ll always be welcome here.

All My Love,

Mia

-

Tenth of Harvestmere, 9:37

Dear Mia (and Liane),

Sorry for being an ass. It has been a difficult year in Kirkwall, but it is no excuse to see shadows in every corner and suspect the worst of everyone. It wasn’t fair of me, and I will endeavor to behave better and not make baseless accusations. I will also be certain not to give Liane cause to scold me in the future. I’m sorry, Mia. Please extend my apologies to Liane. If you have shared your letter with her, I will write it here: I am sorry for my rash words, Liane.

You and Branson being married is still difficult to wrap my mind around. It is hard to picture the two of you as fully grown adults. I have no mental image of South Reach, so it is difficult to imagine you in your day to day life. Maker, it is difficult to think of Rosalie as anything but the five year old child I last saw in Honnleath. Sometimes I wonder if she even remembers me.

Meeting with Seeker Pentaghast was… not what I expected. She had apparently spoken with Varric Tethras first upon arriving in Kirkwall, and the moment she entered my office she began to rant over the inconsistent, vague, and enchanting tale Varric wove for her.

“He was telling me nug-shit, but it was so charming I was _distracted_! I let him get away with his lies!” she said, and I’m afraid I wasn’t much help. Varric Tethras is a master storyteller, after all. It is easy to get swept away in his stories, easy to believe them, easy to _dive_ into his tales. His pretty tales are something you want to believe, Mia, and I can hardly fault Seeker Pentaghast for being swept away. She was furious, however. I believe poor Varric will soon be interrogated again, once the Seeker is finished interrogating every Templar who happened to be present that day.

In other good news, temporary help has come from a surprising quarter: Ostwick Circle sent a contingent of Templars, among them Ser Ricard. His advice has been more valuable than I can say, and with his assistance I’ve been able to eat at least one hot meal a day and catch a few hours of sleep before the sun rises. I know his stay is a temporary one, but I am grateful for his wisdom and measured response to the crisis.

“There is no point in tracking down apostates right now,” he informed me. “The phylacteries were destroyed in the chaos, and there is no place to keep Mages safely without a riot. So what is it that you can do, Knight Commander?”

He does not give me orders, only states his opinions and suggestions. His quiet, sensible approach has been sorely needed, and for the first time in months I feel as if I have my feet underneath me. Between Prince Vael’s threats to sack the city, the near weekly riots in the streets, and Seeker Pentaghast running around the city and tearing it apart in her search for answers, Ser Ricard is a welcome pillar of stability. He will leave by the end of the year, but while he is here in Kirkwall I am grateful for his help.

Things are not good, Mia, but they are better than they have been in some time. I will take that as a good sign.

Your Brother,

Cullen

-

First of Wintermarch, 9:38

Dear Cullen,

A happy new year to you! May it be more fortunate and peaceful than the previous one. I wonder if writing that wish is an omen. Perhaps if I wish misfortune on you the year will be prosperous. Liane has told me that, in her clan, they will often give a baby a nickname like “hideous one” or “bad luck” to ward off evil, at least until their true name day. Whatever the case, I will hope for good luck and safety this coming year for all of us. The world may be dark sometimes, but we have survived dark times before. We can weather this storm as well. So a happy new year to you, Cullen. Do be sure to get some sleep, will you?

Your Loving Sister,

Mia

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know how people will feel about this collection of stories, but I wanted to write it and I thought that if there was even one person who wanted to read it, I might as well share what I wrote.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
